Letra de When the Laughter Stops - Yard Act

(Feat. ["Katy J Pearson"])

I got the call for the audition

It was the chance of a lifetime

It said, "If all requirements of this role come to fruition

You'll never work another day in your life"

So I let my hair grow wrong, don't shave my face

I got some brand-new boots and gained a bit of weight

But when I finally got the script in for the role which I was hoping

It said I'd play the victim, shot dead in the cold open

Time's up, don't be scared

The future's got a room without a view in your own head

Head down, no comment

It's just a matter of opinion

Don't let no one ever know about the burden that you're smuggling

You dry your eyes at the gate to hide the struggling

The stories that you're juggling

The fear you must be funnelling

Bury till you're burrowing

Pain is such a funny thing

No one needs to know about the burden that you're smuggling

You dry your eyes at the gate to hide the struggling

The stories that you're juggling

The fear you must be funnelling

Bury till you're burrowing

Pain is such a funny thing

So let them replicate my past success

With casting from the same subset of men

Whose fleeting failures are all they ever knew

With a straight face beyond repair digging a grave of nil despair

Between the crosshairs of a crop that never grew

We pay no respect to common intellect

And watch the insects suck the marrow from the bone

For when we go back to our proper jobs and realise the laughter's stopped

I need to know my chance was fully blown

Don't let no one ever know about the burden that you're smuggling

You dry your eyes at the gate to hide the struggling

The stories that you're juggling

The fear you must be funnelling

Bury till you're burrowing

Pain is such a funny thing

No one needs to know about the burden that you're smuggling

You dry your eyes at the gate to hide the struggling

The stories that you're juggling

The fear you must be funnelling

Bury till you're burrowing

Pain is such a funny thing

Time's up, don't be scared

Head down, no comment

It's just a matter of opinion

To the last syllable of recorded time

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death

Out, out, brief candle

Life's but a walking shadow

A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more

It is a tale told by an idiot

Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing

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