There's a stench to their bliss and oblivion -- the gall! --
they snicker and flit at the ball.
They waltz and they kiss, none of them knowing at all
an evening so evil will fall.
Her mask's on, he's impressed, beneath a sparkling chandelier,
she's got 24 karats per ear.
And they're dressed all to excess until the man in the red mask appears
and for a moment they're naked with fear.
At midnight, the red, it's a thickening clot.
They gasp and they gape all in shock.
With feverish dread, they are violently sick on the spot
and someone cries -- all the doors, they are locked!
And then a panic ensues, there are many screams, many fights,
but when all's said and done they are dead.
And I often peruse on many my sleepless nights
the last words that dark man said.
He said -- I've seen enemies act like twins
and I've seen grimaces twist into grins,
disregard your good deeds and your sins,
it's who adapts, that's who wins.
And now the masquerade begins,
the actors and the mannequins.