Thyrane

A scream-like laughter echoes in your head
As the cross-eyed dancers are capering
They flash by you with twisted smiles
Spinning around in odour, warm, repulsive, sickening
Been following this grotesque show
Could never comprehend
Seeing things clearer when standing aside
Through the phony gestures, plays of pretend
Bunch of sheep in wolves' clothing
You let them guide you, lead you astray