The glitter on a paint and plaster face. Is covering desire and disgrace. We could be lovers. But no one suspects at all. Once you're inside that costume ball. And now I'm sitting here before the mirror. I have the skill still to disguise my tears. Then as the magic starts to fade. I find myself abandoning the masquerade. Even though you're suffering. You try to hide it. And pretend you're so nonchalant. You can cry a pool of tears. And sit beside it. Then perhaps you'll know what you want. I hope you never feel this much despair. Or know the meaning of that empty chair. As the illusions that we made all fade away. In this abandoned masquerade