Jareth


Leathern faces, masks of death
       pirouette
   and comprise the Ball of Fools
       and of the Grotesque.
Spin, grey lizards, pay homage
       to your king,
   him who beauty only in his own
       broken mirror finds;
Lidless caricatures, with your sunken orbs,
   celebrate! in your mockery,
          your parody of life...
   dance and, in sweet, silver mistlight,
          genuflect to the shadows you perform.
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