Look at the situation thus
We have appeared from out of a shell at dusk
Enjoy the twilight
As we seek the night and
We are not prone to turning to dust

Seek all those grandiose remarks
We manufacture them as the dog barks
Take them, cherish them
You will never guess from whence they stem
A distraction is called. O, the larks.

We spun our way around your blood.
Twisting and turning, creating an aqueduct.
Apparent to be in control.
Illusory, such as a verspertine stroll.
Although we created a cliché: your mind was dragged through the mud.

Bless you! Out, Satan out!
The demon has been removed from your snout.
Her allure lies in your head.
Let her enter, and we will not appear so dead.
Thus, stable and strained for now. Though, we will refrain for more than a bout.

Yes, child, we are still here and you are still a child.
For a moment, we successfully made you wild.
Still, this game digresses.
Rules are still the same, even as she undresses.
This dawn will pass, and our number redialled.