Now the laughter's died br And the hand-sore rows empty br Like popcorn filled sheep, br He hurries damply to his father's father's van br To put his make-up on. br Expertly seasoned tones, quickly painted br Hide the cold Geisha white and, br Almost, the black tear that never dries. br The laughing mouth inside the sad red one br Reverses and purple eyebrows sober. br Next a careful wig imprisons the feral br Orange mane his mother used to ruffle and br A mouthpiece fills in chessboard teeth. br Bow-tie and buttonhole are lovingly tissued. br Satisfied, he winks at the mirror man br For the thousandth withering time.