The escape artist sits alone backstage
Preparing, running through all the tricks
Thumbing through his play book page by page
If the curtain rolls up too fast, he'll feel sick
He doesn't want to come to age
There's too many people to fool
But when you practice in the mirror
You're only fooling yourself
He's the only one with woolen eyelids
Who's surprised when things turn out roses
He only manages to escape himself
Nothing else is worth the effort
In the end, he's going nowhere
But in his eyes there's nowhere he can't go
He's the only one in position to stab his back
But he's seen the razor and the damage done
Escaping one problem only to remain a wreck
All he wants of life is to have some fun
All he does adds up to jack
Still he seeks people to fool
On the surface he looks calm and ready
His hands move with intents that are shady
At the end of the night, the roses are fake
The dove's are caged, those cuffs easily break
There's nothing accomplished of substance
Only a hollow man in a conident trance
Someday he'll break free
He'll escape this dreary existance
He'll lead a life of substance
It's a matter of time, you'll see