The Circus

Something enchanting behind these fabric walls
Of chuckles and tricks, and magic things
With paper masks and make-believe promises
As though you could trust anyone anymore

The jeers and cheers of the crowd below,
Through some perverted point of view,
It almost makes you keep on living
Because lately, it seems, nothing else will

And the discordant sounds of children laughing
Is the funeral march for you
You're suffocating in this rich mahogany coffin
The ruby red velvet lining cushions your wounded ego

Something enchanting behind these fabric walls
Of stifled sobs and running mascara, and magic things
With paper masks to hide your shame
As though you could trust anyone anymore