On the brink of modesty
Life's nothing more than a crumb
It will all draw closer, dawn on you
When the velvet curtains cuts us from the phase
In spot, we remain
No longer than what our days have left to give
For life's short game ends doubly
When we tumble over the edge
An unspoken howl on stage
Of plastic hats and preoccupied clay
While twenty purple feathers dance in line
We broke the broken of their rage
And when the clock fails its way
We will simply say; it is fine
