(Aristocrats:) Thus all fairy stories end Only an actress would pretend Affairs of state are her latest play Eight shows a week, two matinees My how the worm begins to turn When will the chorus girl ever learn? My how the worm begins to turn When will the chorus girl ever learn?
(Eva:) The chorus girl hasn't learned the lines you'd like to hear She won't go scrambling over the backs of the poor to be accepted By making donations just large enough to the correct charity She won't be president of your wonderful societies of philanthropy Even if you asked her to be As you should have asked her to be
The actress hasn't learned the lines you'd like to hear She won't join your clubs, she won't dance in your halls She won't help the hungry once a month at your tombolas She'll simply take control as you disappear
(Che:) Forgive my intrusion, but fine as those sentiments sound Little has changed for us peasants down here on the ground I hate to sound childish, ungrateful, I don't like to moan But do you now represent anyone's cause but your own?