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Dancing in the darkness; trying to hide from all his past;
H e makes believe he will not age; and his youthful face will last.
     His pays for insurrections; and his ladies love is cold;
     And to the dealer in a room; her loyalties were sold.
Floating in a dream; starring down at his desires;
One’s he’ll never realize; while he wears this clowns attire.
    Sitting in an office chair; going over rhymes;
    He thinks of how it use to be; and deems them better times.
He’s staring at the monitor; or is it staring back at him?
And in his head he hears it say; “I know where you have been” 
    A hamster in its habitat; spinning on the wheel;
    He’s never going anywhere; does he know it isn’t real?
Easter Sunday picnics; that go on till its dark;
And the rabbit hides his Easter eggs; all about the park;
     The only resurrection is; that grandpas out of bed;
      And everyone is whispering; they’re amazed that he’s not dead.
In his house of mirrors; even still he’s sometimes lost;
And adjoining is the horror house; with far too great a cost.
    Midnight finds him crying; in the morning nothings new;
    But everyday he runs the wheel; what else is there to do?

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