Exit Stage Right
Jan. 29th, 2006 03:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
explorertruemanIt's all come to this. The sky painted wall felt cool and smooth under his hand. It broke under the bowsprite, but his fists didn't have enough force break through. So another way. Need to explore.
You and I
long to live like the wind upon the water.
If we close our eyes, we'll maybe realize
there's more to life than what we have known.
And I can't believe I've spent so long
living lies I know were wrong inside,
I've just begun to see the light.
Stairs, leading up to a...is that? A door in the sky? So close to being free, to go anywhere. Fiji. To be an explorer in truth at last.
Long ago there was a dream,
had to make a choice or two.
Leaving all I loved behind,
for what nobody knew.
Stepped out on the stage, a life
under lights and judging eyes.
Now the applause has died and I
can dream again...
His biggest dream really. To see the world, go anywhere. See it all, drink it all in. And he'd always been held back for some reason. He thought it was just his life, or this was how it was supposed to be. Of course that was before the sky started falling, and he realized how many eyes were on him, watching him. Now it doesn't seem so coincedental. He reached the door, but just as he could turn it.
"Truman."
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone that sees what's going on?
Read between the lines,
criticize the words they're selling.
Think for yourself and feel the walls
become sand beneath your feet
"You can speak. I can hear you." Maybe, but are you really listening? Is anybody?
"Who are you?"
"I am the creator..of a television show that gives hope and joy and inspiration to millions."
"And who am I?"
"You are the star." Fake, everything. His entire life, fake entertainment for a vast audience. Nothing was real.
-----
Feel the breeze?
Time's so near you can almost taste the freedom.
There's a warm wind from the south.
Hoist the sail and we'll be gone,
by morning this will all seem like a dream.
And if I don't return to sing the song,
maybe just as well.
I've seen the news and there's
not much I can do...alone
Finally he reached a decision. No, he made it this far. Screw this creator, screw Seahaven and its phony sameness. Give him reality, excitement. And a chance to be away from prying eyes forever. To just be part of a crowd. Time to disappear from this, and see the world.
"In case I don't see ya', good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight. Hahaha! Yeah!"
He smiled, and since he was on camera, and giving his final performance, it was only right to bow to the audience before his farewell. He then smiled, and walked through the door.
Exit, Truman Burbank, stage right.
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone who smiles without a mask?
What's behind the words--images
they know will please us?
I'll take what's real. Bring up the lights.
You and I
long to live like the wind upon the water.
If we close our eyes, we'll maybe realize
there's more to life than what we have known.
And I can't believe I've spent so long
living lies I know were wrong inside,
I've just begun to see the light.
Stairs, leading up to a...is that? A door in the sky? So close to being free, to go anywhere. Fiji. To be an explorer in truth at last.
Long ago there was a dream,
had to make a choice or two.
Leaving all I loved behind,
for what nobody knew.
Stepped out on the stage, a life
under lights and judging eyes.
Now the applause has died and I
can dream again...
His biggest dream really. To see the world, go anywhere. See it all, drink it all in. And he'd always been held back for some reason. He thought it was just his life, or this was how it was supposed to be. Of course that was before the sky started falling, and he realized how many eyes were on him, watching him. Now it doesn't seem so coincedental. He reached the door, but just as he could turn it.
"Truman."
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone that sees what's going on?
Read between the lines,
criticize the words they're selling.
Think for yourself and feel the walls
become sand beneath your feet
"You can speak. I can hear you." Maybe, but are you really listening? Is anybody?
"Who are you?"
"I am the creator..of a television show that gives hope and joy and inspiration to millions."
"And who am I?"
"You are the star." Fake, everything. His entire life, fake entertainment for a vast audience. Nothing was real.
-----
Feel the breeze?
Time's so near you can almost taste the freedom.
There's a warm wind from the south.
Hoist the sail and we'll be gone,
by morning this will all seem like a dream.
And if I don't return to sing the song,
maybe just as well.
I've seen the news and there's
not much I can do...alone
Finally he reached a decision. No, he made it this far. Screw this creator, screw Seahaven and its phony sameness. Give him reality, excitement. And a chance to be away from prying eyes forever. To just be part of a crowd. Time to disappear from this, and see the world.
"In case I don't see ya', good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight. Hahaha! Yeah!"
He smiled, and since he was on camera, and giving his final performance, it was only right to bow to the audience before his farewell. He then smiled, and walked through the door.
Exit, Truman Burbank, stage right.
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone who smiles without a mask?
What's behind the words--images
they know will please us?
I'll take what's real. Bring up the lights.
