How far along the jester’s road,
Along its twisted track,
Will you realise your playful lies
Will turn and stab your back?
The games you play at other’s expense,
The laughter that you win,
Then only serves to build a debt
Which you can ne’er cash in.
Give a thought, my harlequined friend,
To the lives you touch each day.
Whose colour they then give to you
And which you ne’er repay.
First published March 1997
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