Everything we do is theatre (and that’s the joke)

This theory is not presented by your local convenience store
no bulk leather apprentice. Or Swan of the Bitter Travels
dancing on your Lake, like a lost and distant love interest
cowing at the march of conviction, like a parade of attitude,
typing some deliverance, there upon my couch, like a disturbed
and loyal conman, there was once some stew to eat, if you get
the ol’ idea – oh, john railroad, punching in the decorations
ov voices and backup singers, all parametered within a cloud
and basking in the glory that there will be no more cops