SORDID LIVES

"Who's to judge who's a saint and who's a sinner?
Lord it's tough enuf to trudge from brunch to dinner.
We seek the light of truth between our white lies.
And sleep away our youth under tattle-tale skies.

Who's to say who's a sinner and who's a saint?
Who's to say who you can love and who you cain't?
It's easy for the pot to call the kettle black
When jealous of the hot 'n lusty sordid lives they lack.

Chorus

Ain't it a bitch sortin' out our sordid lives?
It's a bitch when you come to realize,
Crack yerself a box of Cracker Jack
You could get a really shitty prize!
It's a bitch sortin' our our sordid lives!

We struggle comin' down the shoot to take our first breath.
Then we struggle for acceptance from birth to death.
But the Lord's too busy tryin' to keep the world on it's feet.
He ain't got time to give a damn 'bout what goes on between the sheets.

(repeat chorus)

Then... the reprise in the middle of the film...

"When the Lord dips us in the gene pool,
We get more than Granny's green eyes.
We get our Mama's warmth,
Our Daddy's cool,
And that thang between our thighs.
And that's the start of all these troubles
In our sordid lives.

Ain't it a bitch sortin' out our sordid lives?
It's a bitch when you come to realize,
Crack yerself a box of Cracker Jack
You could get a really shitty prize!
It's a bitch sortin' our our sorry little sordid lives!