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No Laughter Track
There's never applause,
Or whoops of delight,
When he enters a room.
No high speed car chases,
Or riding off into the sunset,
No rocket-ship to the moon.
He's never had a cream pie in his face,
Or slipped on a banana skin.
Never hung from a clock,
By his fingertips,
Or danced and sang in the rain.
The leading ladies that he's kissed,
Number exactly nil.
No glittering awards are on his shelf,
Bad reviews,
He's never had to read.
He earns a good wage,
For the work that he does,
Not the income,
Of a Third World Nation.
There are no lines to learn,
No royalties,
His life has no rehearsal,
And he can't wind it back.
There is no laughter track.
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