Welcome to my prison ball.
It's a cutting-edge hop sideswipe swing.
This is why the will survives, this is why the caged bird sings.
It's a cobra-mongoose war of wills,
Haunches kick and feelings fly,
The goddess of the sidelong glance,
makes it harder to pa** by.
Oh, we take part in this masquerade,
To keep the scorecard even.
While messiahs and mistresses all die for what they believe in.
Formal speech and smart decorum make us appear much stronger,
The formal gowns and feathered masks of birds that fly no longer.
Oh, Drama entertains us well.
The king strives to complete the task.
He's having the most fun of all,
With no eyeholes in his mask.
Oh, The fool is far more dangerous.
Your limits he will put to test.
It's really not his sentiment,
After all, he's just in jest.
Oh, the band plays on and never dances,
But the music always varies.
Sometimes the song of a chain gang,
Or a flock of caged canaries.
The mask remains tied tightly on,
To hide the flaw much bigger.
The tear and groan of flesh and bone,
And the scar that leaves me disfigured.
Oh, welcome to my prison ball.
Welcome to my prison ball.
Oh, welcome to my prison ball.