Quaalude

Quaalued (C. Volk)My Quaalude is a prelude to the dance I might try to spin on streets of broken stone...Crowds of two seem like new when older faces join this fray In past tense,we'd laugh at all the princes in their faded lights far down belowwhere clowns might laugh and small men cry and some may never tell you why....a smile becomes a sneer when the mirror closes near, into chaos we place fear...so set your face remember grace and scream at those who fill this place...and don't forget to...laugh at all the princes in their faded lights far down belowwhere clowns might laug and small men cry and some may never tell you why.....all this you see is yours to be.. and then it slips away...and if you could see then it never could so why... does it slip away??Intangible to all who seek yet close enough to make you weak when it pulls you near.Where thoughts are found to likely stray from moral grounds where they once played,a better man might say.....