You say I get a little nasty You say I'm just showing off In front of the visitors You say I'm going For cheap, cheap laughs He's my offstage prompter It's true he helps me connect With my big Napoleon I don't know that that's about, What's that about? We will receive you In the good room That still smells of Pledge Pictures of our smiling faces Stations of the cross Of teeth and puberty She cries at motorcades She cries at motorcades She cries at motorcades, she cries Now before you start I'm not making fun People cry at the Strangest things Mine is the Venezuelan national anthem So many deepest of feelings So much emotional porn Public declarations Windy words that fill The sails of empty vessels She cries at motorcades She cries at motorcades She cries at motorcades, she cries What is it that gets her? Is it the strong arm of the state? Little flags and outriders Shiny gloves that part The sea of the little people Or is the getting from A to B? Behind tinted windows Carry the weight of the world But it's the least we can do To ease your passage Leave us in this Blissful ignorance