Stuck inside a dress that doesn’t fit,
little too big on the hips.
Out back broke a slipper.
Smashed it on a sidewalk.

On a stoop, in the evening, under a street light
thinking cigarettes and wigs are gonna kill me.
What am I doing?
Where am I going, and where did she go?
Who is mistaken and who really knows?
What am I doing?

Ball gown dreamer hides behind a mask,
answering the questions he asks himself.
Wonders if everybody else is always thinking,
says he’s got it figured out.

Walked outside, a dress that screamed so loud.
Little too big of a crowd
in front, broken records.
Silence on a stairwell.

Funny where this all can take us.
Crazy how time chooses sides.
Wild how nothing could break us,
get through it and feel more alive.

Why is it all simple? What’s the hardest part?
Changing to get happy, or living out our art?
Why do I still do this? Why can’t I let go?
How is it that they don’t see what I have tried to show?

Considers all the questions he asks,
drops a dress, takes off his mask.
Tucks himself in singing,
‘I’ll wake up in the morning.’

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