Carnival:

Withheld behind the grand curtains,

Sheets made of mahogany velvets,

They rest in their masks.

From dusk until dawn,

They’ll dance. They’re actors-

So, of course, they have to play.

They’ll play until their feet ache,

Until the soles of their shoes turn the same color as the curtains-

Mahogany.

Jesting, fooling around, it's part of what they do.

For them, unlike us,

It’s natural.

We don’t see it when they bleed,

Don’t see their heartache or pain.

They know their masks oh so well,

How to hide their weeping eyes.

They bring life to their comedic tragedies,

But there’s something I haven’t told you yet.

Darling, I’m one of them- and they’re-

They’re part of me.

Mahogany:

Seated before the grand curtains,

Sheets made of mahogany velvets,

They rest in their chairs.

They come, they go.

They watch. They’re people-

So, of course, they only watch.

They’ll watch until their legs numb

Until the show comes to an end and the curtains fall with the toss of a thorned rose-

Mahogany

Watching, walking around, it’s part of what they do.

For they, like us,

Want to be entertained.

They want to be distracted,

They want to forget

About the lives they know oh so well,

For just a night, to dry their weeping eyes.

The show brings death to their tragic comedies,

If only for but an hour or more.

But there’s something yet to be told.

Darling, you’re one of them, those behind mahogany curtains.

They’re part of you.

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