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Ivory Hours
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Time To Pretend
I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life.
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.
This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
Yeah, it's overwhelming, but what else can we do.
Get jobs in offices, and wake up for the morning commute.
Forget about our mothers and our friends
We're fated to pretend
I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and picking up worms
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I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world
I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home
I'll miss the freedom and the boredom and the time spent alone.
There's really nothing, nothing we can do
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew.
The models will have children, we'll get a divorce
We'll find some more models, everything must run it's course.
We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end
We were fated to pretend
We're fated to pretend
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