Usually things appear sorted then a cold gust of wind turns things around. Where you want to be is on the Magic Faraway Tree to a land with a friend called Saucepan Man. You could dream if you like and be on the Wishing Chair, but if that's not your thing, then you can smile and look away.
In a moment there will be madness. And we shall allow it, or we can if we make the effort. Sit in circles, light the torch, play the guitar, sip wine, get lost in eyes -- a new pair of eyes -- or we can break the rose petals and believe we weren't there. It's easy, if you may. Follow the beat through the forest. Cinderella seems weepy, and Rumpelstiltskin thinks that life's nothing but an anomaly of twisted fingers and gold diggers. They want him, he knows, but not for his soul. For he's trapped in the ground. And Red Riding Hood is at the Vagina Monologues.
There will be darkness, my friend. But if the chimney is burning and all the children are sleeping, then the garden will rise and death will play chess. Cats and dogs -- sleeping crows and angry turtles, the crawling king snake slithers tonight, darling. And in a moment, I will want world peace. To break the chain of command and follow the orders of forgotten politicians, kings and popes -- who've got nothing else but a couple of coins and a cloth of luck.
Dreams and despair, songs of love and hate. They open the gates tonight. And in a moment, you will see.