[Intro – spoken, deadpan] Smile. That’s for my feed. [Verse 1 – deadpan] Can’t wait for the next big theme disguise parade Like every year we’ll brainstorm what persona to fake Marquises, fairies, cowboys, witches in a row Dozens of Harley Quinns, fifty-two Jokers in a show From barely recognizable to “you could try again” We plan the night like it’s a cultural event [Verse 2 – deadpan] There’s always one genius dressed up as a fly Or a toilet bowl, or a cross-eyed snail passing by They have to explain it, it’s rarely very clear To confused acquaintances holding plastic beer Halfway through the night you collide face to face With a failed comedian performing in your space There’s always an audience for that kind of joke Laughing while they nearly choke on store-brand cake and Coke [Verse 3 – deadpan] On a small tired sofa sit the proudly un-costumed Claiming they despise every theme ever assumed Yet somehow they attend with visible insistence Best dressed of them all in tailored indifference Someone brings dessert, we switch off all the lights Because tonight, of course, it’s birthday rites We blow out the candles, powdered sugar flies Landing on some random Joe or Jane’s surprised eyes [Bridge – spoken, flat] Happy birthday to you. What’s your costume? Oh. You don’t have one. Sorry. [Verse 4 – deadpan] When the party dissolves a few volunteers remain Heroically cleaning up glitter and cheap champagne We rush because tomorrow we all clock in at nine But Saturday returns for the “epic slideshow time” Can’t wait for the next big theme disguise parade Like every year we’ll brainstorm what persona to fake Marquises, fairies, cowboys, witches in a row Dozens of Harley Quinns, fifty-two Jokers in a show From barely recognizable to “you could try again” We plan the night like it’s a cultural event... We plan the night like it’s a cultural event... We plan the night like it’s a cultural event...
