The curtains are closed.
Her mind’s in a haze
She powders her doleful pale face
Cheers of encouragement
banging on her door,
A clarion-call from the floor
Blood-red on her lips
and blue coloured eyes
reflecting the truth of her lies
The spot light is on.
It shines straight onto her head
but all she can see is pitch black
And she blinks with button eyes
how she’s used to do
And she smiles awfully nice
each time anew
She acts and she moves.
She talks and she sings.
In thoughts she is spreading her wings
The hall full and huge.
Applause long and loud.
A sad, lonely clown in the crowd
And she blinks with button eyes
how she’s used to do
And she smiles awfully nice
each time anew

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