My heart is tired.
My mind is tired.
My soul is tired.
I'm a tangled mess of sorry excuses and fake promises.
Broken over and over again to amuse an audience I'll never see.
What a sick game that is.
All I can do is watch and feel the pain.
I hope you're laughing or that you feel moved.
My act is just about to come to an end.
Sooner or later.
Soon.