What is life really but deceit
Are we to live hidden dreams
From behind a hidden reality
Can’t we be honest and forsake
Our hairpieces and makeup
Can’t we just throw aside
Our screens and fans
And be ourselves
What do my guests really think or feel
Am I fun . . am I entertaining ?
Will they remember me tomorrow
Would they like to take me home
Will they love me always
Or will all thought of me disappear
Lost in the morning hangover
Oh to be free of this veneer
Anything would be better
Than this insecurity
Outside pretty pink blossom
Tumbles from windswept branches
And cascade into the wet gutter
And are forgotten . .
Is that my destiny ?
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