Come in, come in, come in.
Welcome to my home.
We have appetizers and attire and satire and rum.
May I take your coat? You look simply
grand; I will show you around. No dog house,
no doll house, no fun to be found — only a grand piano that lies
in the ballgown filled ballroom, soaked in the wine of a small town.
Come in, come in, please, come inside;
drink some wine, drink my wine. My home is
freshly cleaned; a layer of plastic lies
sarcastic on all in your sight. Don’t be afraid
to spill your white grapes or your white lies
on my white marble tiles, they won’t make a sound in this small town.
Don’t come in, come in, please, please, stay away.
The chandelier is crashing and the art no longer
on display. The masks are coming off, mine will too
soon. When you taste the wine, you will never want me to.
So come in, come in, you will never want to leave.