Should I betray you to Charlene?. She doesn’t know the things I’ve seen. She must still think you’re Mr. Clean. Just like the man she wed. Should I betray you to your spouse?. The wife who waits back at the house. She doesn’t know that you’re a louse. That’s not the man she wed. She doesn’t know the deals you make. The throats you cut the vows you break. To buy up some old lady’s stake. Quick before she’s dead. She doesn’t see your oily smarm. You pour on in the place of charm. When you’ve got some shopgirl by the arm. Steering her into bed. That virgin forest you chopped down. To build another ugly town. I’ll tell your wife you bribed them round. To back your plan instead. But perhaps she doesn’t want to see. The heel that you turned out to be. That’s why she’ll take a gin or three. To drive doubts from her head. While she’s working hard enough. With housework kids and all that stuff. You’re out there with some bit of fluff. Cruising on the Med. She thought the leopard’s spots were paint. She thought she’d turn you to a saint. Kept hoping though the hope grew faint. That you were better bred