as you sit there crying,
hanging on with your fingertips
to something that's already dead.
Now we're into a game
and it's all a bit strange.

Once on a time we were sincere;
now, we're acting charades,
hiding behind cracked images
from other people's stages;
now, we're into a game,
and it's all a bit strange,
but familiar, too...
the rules never change; I know it, but do you?

I've seen it all before,
and this play no longer moves me,
but the closing of a door
is never easy