[ Sordid Lives Theme] 

Now who's to judge who's a saint and who's a sinner? 
Lord it's tough enough to trudge from brunch to dinner 
We seek the light of truth between our white lies 
And sleep away our youth under tattle-tale skies 

Now who's to say who's a sinner and who's a saint? 
Who's to say who you can love and who you can't? 
It's easy for the pot to call the kettle black 
Their just jealous of the hot and lusty sordid lives they lack 

Ain't it a bitch sortin' out our sordid lives? 
It's a bitch when you come to realize 
Crack yourself a box of Cracker Jack 
You could get a really shitty prize 
It's a bitch sortin' out our sordid lives 

Now we struggle comin' down the shoot to take our first breath 
And we struggle for acceptance from birth to death 
But the Lord's too busy tryin' to keep the world on its feet 
He ain't got time to give a damn about what goes on between the sheets 

Ain't it a bitch sortin' out our sordid lives? 
It's a bitch when you come to realize 
Crack yourself a box of Cracker Jack 
You could get a really shitty prize 
It's a bitch sortin' out our sordid lives 

Now when the Lord dips us in the gene pool 
We get more than Granny's green eyes 
We get our Mama's warmth 
Our Daddy's cool 
And that thang between our thighs 
That's the start of all this trouble 
In our sordid lives 

Ain't it a bitch sortin' out our sordid lives? 
It's a bitch when you come to realize 
Crack yourself a box of Cracker Jack 
You could get a really shitty prize 
It's a bitch sortin' out our sorry little sordid lives 

Oh yeah!