You thrive on dancing in our laps. Before the more familiar chaps. And oh the curtain leads to fever. We watched a womaniser cry. And in the last sip you and I. Declared we might require a breather. I am the truth true through and I. Can feign excitement fluently. As solid as I can busk shock. With well presented merriment. And I know all too well. I shouldn't break the key off in the lock. And the tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fit. In the fright lined dining room. Throw a gaze towards them while they feast. The days drag their heels. When you're not there to crack the whip. And the weeks wait to burst. Like a sache of brass. The old pantomime villian follows my coat. And he hides where it hangs and he spies through the slots. And meanwhile in the desert's only costume shop. The cowls hang and wait. To rot away the identities of the willing. Drowned bags of sugar in the night. Rocketing shuttered doors despite. The shop not opening for hours. You can itch flap and whistle. And try to avoid the talk. As I scribbled over drivel you were snoring showing off. The tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fit. In the fright lined dining room. Throw a gaze towards them while they feast