Real bone porcelain cups and saucers in flight formations
Gold rimmed sugar bowls, deep like swimming pools
Spoons dive in. and you can crash the party when the punch bowls enters, crash your party when the candle fades
Walk that mezanine, you're caught in between
No charades
Now this pan cooks a little slow sometimes and this cake turns a little cold
Worn out way before the cars arrive
Your face sings from--from friend to foe
No charades
No ticker tape
Baked so many cakes your little fingers swell i was waiting by the oven all day
And if the batter drip drops form a layer of film
Swept every last crumb away and start it over this time
Now this pan cooks a little slow sometimes, and this cake turns a little cold
Worn out way before the cars arrive
Your face sings from--from friend to foe
And everybody's caught up in the grandeur, eveyone is caught up in the gold
Walk that mezanine, you're still in between, deer tracks skin crack your face looks so old
After all the guests have gone, you can pile your records on
We could let em drop to dawn, one by one
Then lick all the icing from your fingertips and shining arms
We could let the party run till the music's done
And the music's done
(watch this one his blood runs hot
His blood is boiling now...underneath, etc.)
After all the guests are gone, you can pile your records on
We could let em drop till dawn, one by one
(hero, hero..etc)
Then lick all the icing from, your fingertips and shining arms
We could let the party run till the music's done
And the music's done
Hero, hero...etc