You thrive on dancing in our laps before the more familiar chaps who know the curtain leads to fever,
We watched a womanizer cry and in the last sip you and I declared we might require a breather.
I am a truth's true truant and I can feign excitement fluently as solidly as I can busk shock,
With well presented merriment and I know all too well I shouldn't break the key off in the lock.

And the tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fits,
In the fright lined dining room throw a gaze towards them while they feast.

The days drag their heels when you're not there to crack the whip,
And the weeks wait to burst like a sachet of brats.
The old pantomime villain follows my coat
And he hides where it hangs and he spies through the slats.

And meanwhile in the desert's only costume shop the cowls hang and wait
To rot away the identities of the willing.

So I'm back to sugar in the night, rocketing shutter doors despite the shop not opening for hours
You can itch, flap and whistle and try to avoid the tock as I scribbled over drivel you were snoring, showing off.

The tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fits
In the fright lined dining room throw a gaze towards them while they feast.

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