This is just a random thought I had after reading some of Shakespeare's poemsIf all the world's a stage, then
Where does the orchestra play?
-for the world is filled with music
to whittle our cares away.
If all the world's a stage, then
Where do the script writers hide?
-they must be lurking somewhere
controlling my thoughts and mind.
I really need to find them, and
Ask where they spend their time.
These stage lights are too bright,
And props in grit and grime.
Shakespeare, you know the secret
What lies behind the stage
-it really isn't the whole world, you know
just life's encompassing cage…
And when the world plays the players
And when the players play me wrong,
I think I will escape thee, stage
And go where I belong.