|The Carnival Fascinates Me Until It Comes To Town (Welcome to the Show)|
The Carnival Fascinates Me Until It Comes To Town, also known as Welcome to the Show, is the opening song to the Album. Written by Courtney Stevens, it was originally intented and used for a poetry 'slam' contest at MBCI.
Come one! Come all! Come to the greatest show in history! Life, death, instinct, bravery! The best of society and the lowest of plebeians! The show where magnificence will manifest And the bowels of society will be bought for chumps and chimps.
However, this place is not designed for children. Despite the bright lights and the magisterial music, I must remind our patrons That the carnival is not for children. Nor for the faint of heart or pregnant women
Any sickness or stolen articles is not my doing But yours to own up to. On that note, Did we mention the star of our show? He stands with a scythe at our door Laughing at an audience of martyrs, Who could very well contribute to tomorrow’s mayhem.
But just enjoy the show for now. After all, it doesn't last forever. Every show claims one soul; It’s inevitable.
Untimely deaths are just confetti And bloodshed is made to look like candy. On that note, Did I mention the children actually make this show? Because our confessions are like sentences And the offering basket collects rose-coloured glasses. Everyone who walks through that door gets injected with life . . .
It’s actually in the popcorn: Along with diabetes and clotted arteries And a dose of reality; Throw in a hint of technology and you have today’s society, Where we pay a stranger to tell our story to, To place feelings and fears and problems on someone who isn’t a friend And have them prescribe something to you that isn't simply love.
Today, tragedy is turned into comedy. A diagnose becomes comatose becomes funny. Any overdose or adipose forces a smile to crack, And your back begins to break by every knife thrown, Every tiger tamed and height obtained Forces a fault through your brain, Hello, my name is Insane! It’s spectacular!
And the audacity people have because they’re “alone,” When you are put in this show with an act Chosen by God, not man, To be in your own circus of mistakes, faults, guilts, and burdens, Blazing at 4000 degrees Fahrenheit Because we presume pressure is like hell— And hell is hot.
And we presume death is only a part of life Like how we presume it will take only three days to grieve, And three hours to remember them among friends, Three minutes to fully register that they’re gone. They're story is lost forever on the high wire. Every word spoken, letter tasted, Slowly slipping away as they hurtled towards the ground.
But what would the purpose of my show be If there weren't a little high stakes? Chances and gambles and laws and rules: “I dare you” becomes “I own you.”
Addictions surpass pills and needles; They turn to adrenaline and rebellion And if the risk doesn't mutate into thrill Will I see your face out there in the crowd?
Because your sheltered life will turn to ash And all those bubbles will pop some day And then, only then, Will you honestly let fear stand in the way.
“See?” I tell the young. “This is why we need you. We need your bliss and purity and untainted sanity. And see? For me, I'm asking you now Can’t you see how the carnival fascinates me Until it comes to town?”
But you stare at me with this look in your eye, The same one dreamers and children and lunatics have. Because fear is still a tap that is either on or off— Hot or cold— And though you'll have your highs and lows You've never once been lukewarm, With a scythe inches from your ear, As death whispers threats chilling your soul, Because the show must go on.