Ball

Spinning, spinning

Worlds beneath fingertips

When space is all that's wanted

The inkwell had the right of it

Containing its intention

Where we hold it out in hands, on sleeves

Finery we cannot afford

Metal is still metal

Mettle is still mettle

And we still hang our heads with jewels

While the tongues within go unadorned

So this masque carries on

Spinning,

Spinning

Inevitable heat, growing gravity

Now, the game begins

No one wants to be the first to leave

To admit that the weight is too much

No, denial is the substitute

Distraction the prescription

Dance the night away

Ignore this rare circumstance

Where your personal knowledge

Serves the purpose of the empirical

On the subject of things that the sun will bring

Just keep spinning

And spinning

Coins upon a table

Heads and tails

Chasing each other

Means and ends

That will never meet