The object of impermanence is frugality
When the night spades into film
And the cast and all it’s production crew
Charge the stands that buy their ways.
Reality is lost in a dancing vortex
While the critics rave of the scenes
And left behind are the weaker members
Watching from a standstill.
Bad performances are insignificant
For the actors not known for their face
But the stillness stays for the acceptance
That the world was never humble.
It’s best to know that to remain unknown
The freaks can’t try to hurt you
If the director never learns your name
He can’t control how you move.