Busy body to and fro
Prepare to go perform
The show must show
Go on and on and on
Take a runaway plane launched from a train
Tis all the same same
The blame for the pain which some call inhumane has no shame shame
It must be the confounded fame fame
Whooping and hollering and holding out signs
So many monkeys behind the stage
Feeling untouchable now they escaped the cage
The cage of the normal that normally binds
Somehow even here, a way happiness finds
A home to rest its feet
From the hustle and bustle of the performance feat.
I love poetry.