It has been said to me, "An act must thus ensue,
So that no one can ever see it's the world against you.
Yet that battle can only be fought behind the stage,
While everyone else sees you smile into your old age."
But they only love the mask, they only know the act,
They couldn't care any less for simple truth or facts.
By the end, perhaps, I'll finally believe,
And truly, completely, the world deceive.
I don't know where I'm going,
I scarce remember where I've been.
Still, blindly I am rowing until I reach that bitter end.
I'll be on that river by myself, all alone,
The truth is still unknown, the act all that remains,
For by now I am the mask of a man without a name.