In the still of the right
wrong holds so many tight
In the still of their plight
they refuse to be right
Being right does not rule in
so many love sin
They do it over again
and then some when
it may never come to an end

Oh the games people play
every night and each day
Some follow the hours
giving pretty flowers
Then drinking whiskey sours
They might as well kept
the money they spent
because their intentions
were hell sent

Right from the very start
there was no true love
in their heart
Only trickery and deciet
along with their weird
sense to selfishly defeat
Getting their way
is the main reason they play
Regardless of what
their victims say

opg