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letra de the marriage is a mess - not drowning, waving

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when there’s nothing much to work for
you have to say that life gets stale
well, there’s forty miles of suburbs
where everything’s for sale
from the roads to the houses we sleep behind
and the talk behind the fence
where the need to reproduce ourselves
grows stronger everyday

and the conversations awkward
when there’s little lеft to say
with all this “believing in the family”
that keeps thе father strong
and the men are loud and foolish
tell of how they’ve done it on their own
and how they won’t take the push no more
but it seems they always do
and the marriage is a mess

and she practices neatness
and reads pink books of blue romance
she keeps neat clipped lawns and roses
and the bruises on her face
whilst the banks put up bright posters
scream we’ve got money to give away
well it’s as easy as that right there
but the bank man is a b-st-rd

and the marriage is a mess

and they hardly talk anymore

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