Under the Green Desk Lamp…
His fingers ache and palms are chaffed
The wires gnaw the creases
But he cannot rest or slow down
He knows he’d fall to pieces
He keeps them dancing for the show
It’s not his job at all
The moves are just a pantomime
He’s there so they don’t fall
This one leans and that one tilts
That one jumps around on stilts
This one tumbles, that one cries
There’s something dead behind his eyes
This one’s tangled in its strings, he checks if it’s ok
But that one he takes his eye off and it sadly slips away
He screams but has nothing to say
He’s lost the plot at last today
But there’s so many strings in play
And he’s just trying to be ok
He’s just trying to hold them all
Though he’s not at his best
And all the ones still standing there
Do better than the rest
So he bows his head and holds on tight
And prays his course will steer him right
From this broken palace all alone
To some new show he’ll call his home
But it’s hard to pull himself up
When they all rely on him
Like water through a broken vase
The fallen ones just take his place
The lost, the lies—the price of art
The things he knows are true
If you work too hard for anyone
They’ll stop working for you
-Brad OH Inc.