Step up, young one
The show’s about to start.
Take your seat beside the chairs and chairmen
They’re eager to see you perform your latest hits
The one-hit-wonders, the fifteen-minutes-of-fame, or the seventeen-seconds-of-disaster
As soon as your name is called step up, sweet lass,
Glance at the endless ceiling, the painted windows,
The gentlemen and ladies dressed in black and white
Blouses and dresses, suits and ties, shirts and briefs
What a show we have for you tonight, says the
Chairman to his chairlady and yourself, chin up.
You’ve been through hard times, he says, you’ve really
Gone so far in life. What a treat we have for you
A last glance at the ceiling holds no solace
To the uncomfortable one with her hands tied
The audience appears shrouded in a fog
As dense as the chairmen.
You wrestle with the concepts of immortality
Invincibility invulnerability immunity intrepidity
And indefatigable virtue before resting on
You’ve been through hard times says the chairman
But he’s so dense – he knows not the lock and key
Holding your mouth shut, your hands tied,
And you begin to sing.