i can sleep in a chair
when the air is close
and the book is hardly started
you know i never pray
but i might one day
for those around departed

one imitation smile
curls round your glass
i can see through white wine
one imitation smile
curls round your lips
i can see right through you

i´m modelled in wax
but in good hands now
i´ll burn up at both ends
half dead with fatigue
in a social storm
i can gather all my close friends

i get the heaviest blues
and the shortest fuse
when the glutton party beckons
my rattle is a draw
on the restaurant floor
they´ll soon be up for seconds

right through