Eventually when the season changes
the piers close and the crowd disappear
You realise the tattoo of love
was just a transfer that washes off with tears
Like all the great mirages it's gone before you've blinked
The promenade palm trees are plastic
the amusements are a cardboard movie set
The drop of death doesn't mean
you must be dying, nobody dies
It's a kaleidoscope daydream, the whole thing
"Come in! Lose yourself in its penny arcades! "
The mystery house is the hall of illusion
It is summer and the promenade is blooming
The golden age has just begun, soon it will be gone