Stretching out like a lion before a fight, dressing like Madonna before a flight.
The scene is filled with blurred out faces, using cigar filled spaces, with big fat snout that grin behind champagne cases. Using tux and hat to hide its hideous face.
The music starts, curtains drop, the dress is on, breath is held. The **** show is to start.
Stand up and start to spin.
Spin and twist like a quiz with questions of riches. The growing snouts are getting greater as the ash trays are getting major.
The ace and break of broken pines and spine that been rearranged to fit the Madonnas dress.
The show must continue, continue to stand and twist and jump and smile like some sort of an idiot.
Stand at the tiptoes reaching for the gold above while the tips are dripping thru. The bleeding tips that keep painting the ceiling red are painting runes on the ceiling and floor like a sign for the sos.
The pigs are wheezing, the ash is in the air, the gold has fallen. Just the ash that builds up the throat, the only motivation that keeps the smile on and the floors glowing red. The curtain drops the wheezing stop. The floor is so close and the gold is so far. Bette luck next time is all I hear.
Even when the tips of hope is bleeding the result feel so close