All plays have curtains,
All good things must come to an end,
And you must learn to hop
From one Broadway show to the next,
For linger too long,
And you might miss,
A story between frames,
Or a popular song.

Never criticize a show too long,
It will end up in the papers anyways.

Tomra ja bolo tai bolo,
Amar lagey na mone
Amar jae bela, boye jae bela,
Kemon bina karone
Tomra ja bolo tai bolo...

Red cheeks and all that fume

Sometimes you stand and gather yourself,
And see the greatness scattered around, wasted,
And try to make a meaning out of the chaos,
That you have left behind.

Sometimes you remember to dream,
And they come back to you, your little angels,
Who look upon you with a smile,
And make you blush.

You know you look best when your cheeks are red,
And your ears give away fumes,
And the pulses, they run faster than ever,
In a mad rush that fills you soon.

But then you chase the fireflies away,
You know you’ve grown tall,
And thus you end it in your dreams,
The one dream to be small.

I have great potential for bad things.
And that worries me...