I was hooked by a whore in a velvet beret
her accent was phoney as sincerity;
we drank pink champagne
as the world went insane
and traders made bargains in fantasy;

There was no point resisting, what could I say,
all things are for sale when someone will buy.
To ease my confusion
she said I offer illusion
in a place where love’s just a commodity.

It seemed she was teaching me life is a play
and each new scene is a business transaction
so I should make the trade
join the sad masquerade
and not let my principles prove a distraction.

I asked her if dawn might convince her to stay:
she said "you thought love might be part of the deal?"
Love is a promise
made by the dishonest
I’m a whore not a fraud, what ought I to feel?

Around us the city festered like a wound,
lies and deceptions were spreading like plague;
reality dissolved
as the great wheel revolved
and suddenly all I once believed in seemed vague.

Now I’m with the whore in the velvet beret
who knew money always screams louder than truth,
we were blind to the troubles
as we chased after bubbles.
We bought the big lie without asking for proof.
 

we talked and danced, I could not walk away
entranced, I advanced through the game.
knowing that life would, could not be the same
if I lay with the whore in the velvet beret

 Show me the tax haven - satire at Boggart Blog