Life’s a play and we are simply unrehearsed
When the play is over then comes an assembly at the theatre
Giving praising reviews, from each man’s perspective becoming an article of news
Throwing flowers, when it has ended
Taking a picture for it’s remembrance
Slowly fading away with all the other plays
Silently, blissfully
All the other acts are scared for its debut
It’s their first and last
Life is short they say, only being a mere six or seven acts
Some only get to act three, four or one and then they are done
Unbeknownst of the large audience that has trailed along