The masque on the face

The masque on the face and there’s a persona of

you doing butterfly trick

as if flying over the flowers

and forget the scent emanating

but I am doing fine as your valet

Now what remains behind is the chalet

of dreams nonetheless, she weeps

and sick of answering her tantrums

I do complain about what’s behind the masque on the face

a younger woman who needs no feast

There was a triumph of the soul

and you need no ghoul

as your stooge who dances with you

But as your valet, I see you in Opera

with a masque on the face

let’s give love a chase

and break into a flamenco

there’s a twist to the tale

and after a swig of ale

you end up in a quarter but pale

Let’s word the world as longing

of the feverish mood to put behind the curtains

drawn to divulge you to the audience

and I do part my way.

 

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