They say the world's a stage
And us, all players in it
So why all the fuss
About who's going to win it?
An act has no victor!
You shallow little thing
Your spite has no vector
Or conduit of means
Your race to the end
Makes so little sense
I can't understand
Your mind of nonsense
When the curtain comes calling
We'll all go on home
So no rushing or stalling
Our time will come
