Fools on parade cavort and carry on. For waiting eyes. Ones you would rather be beside than in front of. But she's never been the kind to be hollowed by the stares. She swam out of tonight's phantasm. Grabbed my hand and made it very clear. There's absolutely nothing for us here. It's a magnolia celebration. To be attended on a Wednesday night. It's better than to get a reputation. As a miserable little tyke. At least that's the conclusion she came to in this overture. The secret door swings behind us. She's saying nothing. She's just gigling along. Her arms were folded most indignant. Not looking like she was soon to leave. I had to squint in order to believe. Then like a butler pushing on a bookshelf. And unveiling the unexpected. I who was earlier reluctant. Was suddenly embarassed and corrected. How could such a creature survive in such a habitat?. The secret door swings behind us. She's saying nothing. She's just giggling along. Even if they were to find us. I wouldn't notice. I'm completely occupied. As all the fools on parade. Cavort and carry on for waiting eyes. Ones you would rather be beside than in front of. But she's never been the kind to be hollowed by the stares. Fools on parade frolic and fuck about to make her gaze. Turn to a scribble on a page. By a picture that holds her absence. But you daft to think she'd care. Fools on parade. Fools on parade. Fools on parade conduct a sing-along