All the lovers and gents, all the ladies and friends,
get a view while we dig our own graves.
We've got fashion and fritz, we've got glamour and glitz,
we've got everything to pave our own way.
Hollywood's on the phone with her heart made of stone,
she's got pennies and nickels to trade.
But we're not dying for cash nor or we trying to find love,
this is only a masquerade.
On the stage is where boys become men, so they say,
but they never give hope to be safe.
If we paid dues to be true to our word 'til we're blue,
we'd all end up in hell anyways.
It's for passion and price, confession and vice,
until gold in our hands we will bring.
If it's all that we've got until death do us rot,
then these are a few of my favorite things.