This is just a random thought I had after reading some of Shakespeare's poems

If 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.