my mind’s been a stage since i was a child and oxymoron, really i was known for being mild too scared to say a word too shy to speak my mind i thought i’d never escape but the theatre was kind took me in and loved me gave me what i needed most a home and a family accomplishments to boast but these were the days of youth yet still as i’ve grown old my head has kept it’s stage covered in iron and gold my thoughts still they dance there perform elaborate plays even recite my poetry on some of the better days there’s a hundred seats in the audience one for each version of me each character i’ve played each person i’ve pretended to be when i die i’ll watch my life unfold on stage the actor will give a kiss from her decorated cage she’ll show me how i felt dressed up in my memories how little i remember of all of these supposed revelries because shakespeare was right all my mind’s a stage and my thoughts merely players sent to help me in my old age as my hairs grow a little greyer but i can’t remember now the sight of cracking dawn and with a closing bow my final thought was gone.