Ugly Truth (The Kitchen Tapes)

Hide your background, hide your fame Hide your given middle name Swallow your pride, swallow your pills In your house up in the hills Leave your husband, leave your wife Keep on runnin' your whole life Sweep your dirt under the rug Fix your hurt with a little love From the cradle to the grave You will always be a slave To the quiet darkness of your memories And that's the truth, my friend The ugly truth, my friend I've got proof, my friend And that's the truth Keep your secrets to yourself Keep your paperbacks up on the shelf Burn your bridges, burn your friends Blow 'em kisses and make amends Take the high road or take the low No one but you and God will ever know And you might play rough and win or lose Either way, love, you'll get the blues From the cradle to the grave You will always be a slave To the quiet darkness of your memories And that's the truth, my friend The ugly truth, my friend I've got proof, my friend And that's the truth I've got proof, my friend And that's the truth