French Kicks Follow

Real bone porcelain cups and saucers
In flight formations
Gold rimmed sugar bowls
Deep like swimming pools

Spoons dive in and you can crash the party
When the punch bowls enters crash your party
When the candle fades, walk that mezzanine
You're caught in between no charades

Now this pan cooks a little slow sometimes
And this cake turns a little cold
Worn out way before the cars arrive
Your face sings from from friend to foe

No charades, no ticker tape
Baked so many cakes
Your little fingers swell
I was waiting by the oven all day

And if the batter drip drops form a layer
Of film swept every last crumb away
And start it over this time

Now this pan cooks a little slow sometimes
And this cake turns a little cold
Worn out way before the cars arrive
Your face sings from from friend to foe

And everybody's caught up in the grandeur
Everyone is caught up in the gold
Walk that mezzanine
You're still in between deer tracks
Skin crack, your face looks so old

After all the guests have gone
You can pile your records on
We could let 'em drop to dawn
One by one

Then lick all the icing from
Your fingertips and shining arms
We could let the party run
Till the music's done

And the music's done
(Watch this one his blood runs hot
His blood is boiling now underneath)

After all the guests are gone
You can pile your records on
We could let 'em drop till dawn
One by one
(Hero, hero)

Then lick all the icing from
Your fingertips and shining arms
We could let the party run
Till the music's done
And the music's done
Hero, hero