Music: Dire Straits - Private Investigations
You hear a voice say:
It's not helping, is it?
Looking back, what would change?
Keep on with the dance, stupid.
So you glide on the dark stage,
blinded by the spotlight, you stare.
You can't see the audience,
are you sure they're there?
As a figure fades in the black,
a silhouette emerges.
Two sides of a coin, they say,
one finds, eventually loses.
You go in a spin, senses elevate.
Hear people laughing; do you know them?
You can't take it anymore, come crashing down.
Then there's silence, death of the rhythm.
Snap, you notice a shiny white stage,
over there, two thousand feet away.
Pretty actors perform, like puppets,
hiding their shades of grey.
Tired, you breathe heavily,
impatient, nervous you stand.
You look up, and in horror you find
strings flowing to each hand.
And you wonder what have you got
cheering fans, thundering applause?
In the end, what have you got
a sinking feeling, sense of loss.
But you always knew this story, remember?
Flip pages of the diary.
(This is your investigation,
it's not a public inquiry).
~ Ankur.
