Dead Confederate
Yer Circus
The trapeze man has fallenThe clowns have gone to bedYer' circus turned belly upBroke its back against its debtWhat fools we played to clap handsFor taming tigers tameOur pulse, applause, adrenalineFor shaking out the namesNames drawn out of empty hatsSketched lines of dirty facesWhen what you see is what you getBackstage is for the patronsLeaders spy through soothsayer's eyesIn dark beyond the tentsAll we see, our historyJust vapors from liars' breathThe air we breathe when we retreatDisbanded on safe vacationsIs ten times removed, to thoughts we will swoonFrom truth we expel occupationIt's our disease, this death will breedIt's blind asphyxiation
From Letras Mania