Effortless

life, in a strange effort to wake the sleeping baby works itself in all sorts of manner, whispering into its ear and prodding it alternatively with a little wooden chopstick and a broomstick.

when the wind starts to blow, the bough will break and the baby will surely fall, cradle and all. baby love, the wind has begun to whisper. it's time to wake up now and it's time to go. come on, one, two now, buckle your shoe. shut the door, pick up your sticks. it's time to wave goodbye. the curtains have got to come down and the encore is done.

lights off. take a bow.