The stage is not for voices who utter nonsense phrases, who pine for praise, the money flows and prestige grows, grown ups doing master passion, the wicked wisdom of the prank man, all for the audiance uproar, sing and sing they chant for more, and his thin frame seem slightly sane, as his mouth utters each sylibal so resoundingly so resolute like thunder fills the room. Hailing the new concepts as real for now, excited by the golden cow, whose golden ass makes reluctant sounds.