• I would like to believe the actors never left the stage
    The world which they embody was still present,
    but the machine producing them,
    just couldn't keep up with the pace.

    "Sin loud! Sin proud! Sin for this crowd!
    Play for these numbers, dear children."
    Spoke the dying machine

    The machine was cackling behind a fortress
    made of satin and shame.
    He brought not with him roses,
    but rather an attempt towards pain.

    They displayed such courage on stage,
    but the audience didn't see what was happening
    within their tired hearts.
    They were not real, they were not physical!
    OH! The prospect of playing with your imagination!
    they longed for a home,
    but were given this ashamed father of a machine.

    Alas, the audience was left alone,
    in increasingly expensive theater seats.
    They hoped for gold,
    but instead were presented the door.
    Let down, once more.

    So, I say, friends and degradations,
    let me charter this boat,
    through a sea of sand
    to find not myself,
    but these actors instead.