Strange You Haven't Fled

As callous as she is, as evil as she talks to him
She covers up her smile so her laugh will seem more haunting
And she's done up all her hair in secondary modern
For the last great bash to what's left of his honour
So they both collapse in bed, so tired out from talking 
And she turns to him and says, "How dare you be so loving?"
"Well, I wouldn't touch you now, not while no one's looking."

I'll forgive you son
Little boys break all the rules 
While little girls keep waiting for them
I'll forgive you son
And the writing on the well spells such a bleak tomorrow

In the privacy of pain, he manifests indifference
To the suffering of slaves to the parasites within then
And the peasants and the knaves go dancing 'round the kingdom
God save the Queen on conspicuous consumption
"To his credit he's well-made." That's just what they'll all say
When they bury him alive and spit upon his grave
With blood upon their hands and smiles across their faces

(Chorus)

She'll take the stage to demonstrate and do the Two-step on your back
But now you know how everyone feels
Now that the jokes on you

Well he could have been a saint; he could have been a real man
But he's slumped down in a chair, letching Lolita
While she's out there on the prowl, turning lovers into martyrs

(Chorus)