One day you're certain
of how things will be.
Then you're bewildered
and robbed of your glee.
And this is what happens next:
the curtains are drawn;
the stage of your life revealed,
but the script is now gone.
Ohh oohh...
The question's in your eyes,
"What's the meaning of it all?"
To which your heart replies,
"This is much less like a play
and more like a Grand Ball."
Yeah!
The stage is now filled with song
all the cast of your play are now dancing.
You're itching to dance along;
now you can't stop your feet from the tapping.
Soon enough you'll start to think,
"Perhaps I'll write again."
With your reasons indistinct,
"A script may help this dance."
You so easily forget,
exactly how this ends.
Inspired, rewired,
you calculate the steps.
Each movement to the moment,
an elaborate conquest.
You'll find such comfort in the orchestration.
You must determine how the plot unfolds.
Making rigid demands of your cast.
They seem so unconcerned with the things you ask.
And still they keep dancing on
just as though you don't have a say.
And the choice of routine or song
isn't better that way.
This is what happens when
you realize your not in control.
Some days you'll bear the load
and others you won't.
