Another busy night ahead,
A banquet with a beauty queen,
Model maids who'll be well-fed
When they've consumed a magazine,

Dresses with a show to stop,
Dancing dishes courting spoons,
A Roman Catholic Robocop
Who laughs upbeat electro tunes,

A marching band of mannequins
With teddy bears released on bail,
A man who is a fan of sins
Assisted by a bath of ale.

I'll talk about my fake career:
A helicopter pilot who
Is always haunted by a fear
Of what his rebel brain might do.

I'll speak of past mistakes I've made
And deep regrets for what I've done,
Of memories that never fade
And demons who insist they've won.

I've no desire to turn back time.
I only want to halt its flow,
To see flood-waters cease their climb
When time's great tap is turned down low,

And I could float and watch white clouds
Drift by above this tranquil place,
A private pool devoid of crowds,
Where time has lost its frantic pace.

I'll treasure gifts of clear blue sky
And silence after years of storm,
Until the plug is pulled and I
Can feel a whirlpool start to form.

I'll note a certain downward trend,
A fate from which no one can hide.
I'll sink and soon I'll reach the End.
I'll see what's on the other side.
I hope to find a water slide.