Too many questions, too little time,
You're playing it out, all in pantomime.
You want to be what you cannot,
I watch your newfound zeal rot.
You try to experience what you’ve never felt,
An impossibility that is misdealt.
You keep trying, fed by lies,
I’ll just wait until you realize...
Pantomime.

Myths upon winter’s breast,
All of which she had wrest.
You believe every one of the tales,
And wish to join them, traveling the trails,
Of what was and what will never be,
It is what you’ve only dreamed to see.
And you’re acting it out with great zeal,
But what you crave will always be surreal.
Pantomime.

You are just a Pierrot without hope,
In the darkness, you search and grope.
No words, just endless gestures,
Until the failure of your motions occurs,
Collapsing to the floor with your last breath,
It seems the fantasy has lead to death.
But you keep going through your new world,
You’re playing it out, through heaven unfurled.
Pantomime.