Humor keeps me intertwined

   with these silhouettes of mine--

Silhouettes of doubt and fear,

   shadowed, yet still crystal clear.

The path is worn and faded--still,

   I feel through the power of will

That a cruel front of satisfaction

   will give me some kind of traction.

And so I laugh and put on a show;

   the world's a play, the puppets know,

And yet here I am, not delving into

   the jokes or laughs I swear as true.

But sometimes my humor

   is not wanted nor needed--

And from its pedestal,

   it's found receded.

But still, I laugh, and put on a show,

   for the world's a play, the final blow

Of the final act will leave you spinning

   so don't contemplate it and you'll be winning.