The Vaudevillian

You take the stage, you’re at your best
They’ve hushed the stalls at your behest
You start your act, you sing your songs
The house is packed, they sing along
You seem, they say, so very gay
The vaudevillian, one in a million
The girls you’ve loved, the times you’ve known
The wars you lost, that old trombone
And now the lines that crease your face
Are wet with tears and hot with grease
You know your lines, but God knows what they are
The vaudevillian, one in a million
You’re out of date, they’ve changed the styles
They love to hate, they hate to smile
They start to stamp, they start to boo
You’re some old man, they don’t know who
You’ve lost your shape, you’ve lost your «you»
The vaudevillian, one in a million
A coffin now appears, it’s very strange
They’ve put it here up on the stage
They push you in, the trim is plush
It’s very grim, away you’re rushed
And some lament while others disinfect
The vaudevillian
And now you take a little nap
And when you wake the stars are black
And God is dead and there’s this smell
And you’re not feeling very well
It seems you’re dead, oh bloody hell!
The vaudevillian, one in a million