Ladies and monsters, we've come to the close,
take one final look at the garden we grow.
We're all rather charming in ways we won't mention —
so smile through your teeth, dear, and thank the invention.
The glutton still gnaws at his infinite floor,
the saint keeps two faces and locks the front door.
We waltz with our vices and christen them charm,
and offer the world a most elegant harm.
The blade in the garden still tends to its gloom,
the cage lined in velvet insists it's a room.
We know what we know and we guard it with pride,
then juggle our blindness and call it a ride.
The mirror says yes and the ingrate says more,
the hand that once fed us makes such a fine door —
So here's to the pageant of glorious flaws,
the greed and the grin and the polished applause.
We're gorgeously guilty, we're honestly odd —
take one final bow for the beautiful fraud.
Don't look so glum — the mirror was always a window.
Every sin in this show is a teacher in costume,
and the exit, you'll notice, has been open all night.
So laugh at the ledger and wave at the wolf,
forgive the whole circus its beautiful bluff.
We're works still in progress, unfinished and free —
take one final bow, then come dance it with me.