I am the fool and the wandering minstrel
I clap my hands and I play amongst the crowds
I wander around the grounds of palaces and scuttle through the alley’s and the gutters of the shanty towns
I am seen on every corner and on every stage
Thousands remember my face my charm my talent
I am flocked by the masses…..
But in the quiet and the silence at beginning or the end of the show
No one see’s who really sits behind the mask of the performer as he sadly wishes for a single one to love him when he sits there alone, silent and invisible in the darkened wings of the stage and before he emerges from the dressing room.