It’s the lie of passive anger
The belief in blissful loss,
False desires of imperfection
They all really want the gloss.
Give the apology after the ******
The political game is intact,
It always hurts when you’re lied to
Even worse watching the act.
Who puts a baby in the trash
To forget about their troubles,
Who really trusts the husband
Who has a body double.
As crazy as Tom Cruise
Dynamic like white paint,
It’s a fact till it's false
True motives behind the saint.