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A PROPHET AT BARTHOLOMEW'S FAIR

See my dance, gather near
Spoke a puppet on a string
And in turn, pay heed to the messages I bring
How the crowd was enchanted
Just to hear the wax-man sing

Awaken your senses - assert your place in time
See me as a symbol - I'm shackled to a line
But the strength of these wires
Cannot match the children's smiles
So I dance to the music they play

A man holds a prism - into it shines a light
Releasing bright colors no longer trapped in white
Now, who can you say has produced this fine display?
Just the man - or the glass in his hand?

Where sits the master - at which end of the string?
So often I wonder for whom the plaudits ring
Now, who'll dare to answer the questions that I leave?
How can I convince you - it's your case that I plead

Whether aged or in youth, we're all searching for a truth
Tell me where that truth lies when your limbs are bound in twine?
I'm a tool - but I'm no fool
I know I'll never make the rules
So I dance to the music they play


Lyrics by C.Arters
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