On a sunny day, we were running late
and I didn't know what for.
Had to watch this play out in the hallway
through a window in the door.
About some affray where bullets astray
did in others by error.
How they then escape, but meet their own fates
through doing in each other.
As audience pray the absurd display
continue to show for hours more,
so simply amazed they'd left ambivalent states,
cried at once, "Encore! Encore!"

As we do it to ourselves,
and so may we will forevermore,
please may I just lay my head instead;
rest upon your breast a little more.

The actors give way, lavishing in praise,
they did not slow or close door.
Without scripts to obey they adlib and sway
episodes into others.
The town long decayed, of course they would take
whatever they were offered.
Had not that railway carried such weight
left the town a skip-over.
Maybe then today things might be the same
but all I do know for sure,
to even this day ain't still end. I say
check over on Broad and 54.

As we do it to ourselves,
and so may we will forevermore,
please may I just lay my head instead;
rest upon your breast a little more.

When came the highway, again I was late
and still didn't know what for.
In swept big money; the town, easy prey,
couldn't much so wage war.
The land was surveyed and outlays exchanged
ahead construction's uproar.
Just the actors stayed, their homes on the stage.
Life there, no more could afford.
I too went away but left them bouquet
attached with a note that swore.

As we do it to ourselves,
and so may we will forevermore,
please may I just lay my head instead;
rest upon your breast a little more.