The Roar of the
Greasepaint
I love seeing people missing a true actor,
Not these Broadway Hollywood phonies
In fancy dress
And spatula makeup.
No, the true actor dances in small town streets
Along crowded boulevards,
In our own family rooms
Looking back at us from the mirror.
Take a bow, friends,
The one who wins the Tony
Is the saddest-
A round of applause!
Take a bow,
The curtain closes
And no one ever saw our face.
Author's note: The first line was the inspiration for this. The title is a take on a theater phrase "the smell of the greasepaint, the roar of the crowd."
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