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The Masquerade Ball

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It was a slow summer’s twilight, when I,
Alone, received a call, an invitee
To the masquerade ball, the fourth July,
And I said yes, because the night was free.

So I put on my shoes and vanity
And hopped into my Mercedes and drove
Right past the slums of sleeping sanity
On to the house with the ivory dove.

And when I stepped out on the floor to dance
I stood amazed at the faces of guests;
They wore no masks, and had the same dark glance
The same gross face, dead eyes, black shoes and dress.

never go back to the masquerade ball-
people who dance there don’t need masks at all.





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