You there, in the dark, how may I help you today?
I will shuffle my words in a dance, for you kind Sir!
And you there, Madame, may I act out a sorrow of your heart?

I am a peddler of emotions,
A purveyor of happenstance,
A connoisseur of thought!

How may I shapeshift for you today my old friend?
Do you require new loathing, old thoughts, or fresh memories?
What role do I assume today to open up a door in your mind?
Or shall the new pathway be one in your heart, perhaps?

It doesn't matter to me you see,
These scarred hands, burned so many times
I forget they are my own sometimes!
See the gloves I have woven from blood?
They fit quite nicely over the scars, you see?

Shall it be a ladies' hands today, I wonder,
Many prefer the soft touch I find.
Some others, I find, prefer a rougher touch
Though they seldom know it and don't pay as well
Sometimes, you know, they don't pay at all!
They storm off and utter very angry things,
Funny how fickle they can be,
But normally I see them a few weeks, or months later
And they'll remark how much they appreciated the performance.
Though they seldom admit to liking it much, I have to say!

Sometimes my gloves don't work so well,
So I have to go fetch my masks.
You see, they are much harder to make,
But easier to slip on somehow.
Oh how they love my masks!
Especially my older customers,
They never seem to tire of them.
And they tend to be very caught up when I adorn a new one
Either that or it bored them horribly, so it's a bit of a gamble I must say!
But it's always lovely to see their eyes light up so!
Especially when they are entertained,
So many like to see my dancing and parading about,
Their smiles just light up the world for me, you know.
But I must say that I enjoy it more than they do.

For, you see kind Sir; each glove was woven from my blood
And each mask stitched together from thoughts and feelings.
They are as much a part of me as my own skin you see?
And the dances and acts are as much a part of me as the passersby.
For each is tailored by my hand for that moment, that encounter.
How else would I be able to keep them around you see?
How else would I be able to live out my purpose, my dream?
It encompasses the world, kind Sir, as much of it as the fates lend me.

So I dance for myself as much as for the world, good Sir,
Though I believe sometimes I may get the two confused.

But see now, how I ramble?
I must have carried on too long, you seem bored!
What is it you would like to see this evening?
What act would you like to have performed before you?

Or, more to the point, kind Sir, what is it that you need,
And what part of myself should I wear to make it known to you?