Broken Children - Peter Cincotti

Who’s that face

On today’s front page

Sticking to my shoe

Empty eyes

And a real good smile

That’s all it takes

To sell the news

She got her name

On Gotham’s tongue

But Mama Fame

She eats her young

And half a buck

Ain’t half the price you pay

When you got

Broken children

Shot in black and white

Chasing wasted lives

And they can’t wait

To go there

Daddy’s money

Bought a first class seat

And they all just fly away

On a jet plane to nowhere

On a jet plane to nowhere

Well I’m at a house party

At the Taj Mahal

The portrait hanging

On the wall

Has got too much wine

In her head

And she gets too close

And grabs my face

And says

If you like this place

Well, then you ought to see my bed

She gives an order

To the staff

Looks up

For the photograph

It’s hard to know

If you should

Laugh or cry

When you got

Broken children

Shot in black and white

Chasing wasted lives

And they can’t wait

To go there

Daddy’s money

Bought a first class seat

And they all just fly away

On a jet plane to nowhere

The Hampton’s

Is a summer dream

Where little kings

Chase little queens

They eat it up like

Hungry wolverines

And it looks like

The fabric of their life is

Sewn tight

But it’s ripping at the seams

Broken children

Shot in black and white

Chasing wasted lives

And they can’t wait

To go there

Daddy’s money

Bought a first class seat

And they all just fly away

On a jet plane to nowhere

Oh on a jet plane to nowhere

Oh on a jet plane to nowhere