Nice girls are writing in journals
Things they wish they'd done
And all their bad sisters are walking high wires
Counting the days in a month
The awful truth doesn't bear thinking
Nor does the half-baked lie
They get their hopes dirty once in a while
Wash them and hang them to dry
Everyone's down except for the clowns
And Noah don't know where to go
It's hell up in heaven, there's nothing much here
And all the real men are below
What happens when dreams come true?
Will we know what to do
When our dreams come true?
So a saviour rolls in past the big sign
That says "Strangers - Please Turn Round"
The men tie him up to a feeding post
And take his credentials down
The sun beats rays on our salad days
His lips get parched and dry
The girls bring him drink with a giggle and a wink
And his moment of glory expires