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Been in and out and into 30 brothels. And in and out of conversations awful with every girl I see inside who swears that she's there meeting with her book club. So I take a drink and shrug it off and grin. Try to keep from spilling every sip on every girl I see inside. I line each up to cleanse me of my sins. But I scratch my chin and wonder why they even let me in. Still, each chair spins. I'm off to meet another twice as thin. For my mortal sins, nothing but congratulation. Oh Charlie Charlatan, don't forget the trouble that you're in. 'Cause while you're here swimming, your friends are building houses on dry land. So I take a knee and beg for every wish. And wish pretending wasn't part of it. But every girl I see inside is off to read another twice as thick. So I scratch my chin and wonder if they'll ever let me in. Still, I fill your head with hedonist banality instead. 'Cause I loved each sin more than I loved the better man I'd been.