This false pain from a still false lance
Is mine to suffer through a frenzied dance
For beyond the pirouetting players
Lurk my silent secret slayers

In closing come come the curtain calls
Trapping me in mad applause
And even my expiring breath
Belies the backdrop's quicker death

Although the savage clock will strike
And toss me from this scene
The bravos never uttered
Will survive my dreaded dream

I tried to make me God and King
Sainted in the flesh
I find the easiest meeting begins
In shaking hands with death