Yesternight at nine

When my mind is fooled by my own disguise,
Should I then believe what I see through my eyes?
Life’s an illusion, I do realise;
Mirages of mountains, treading thin ice.

The journey seems pointless, lead by a mere whim,
Staring at a haystack, seeking the pin!
Trying to be cheery, while weary within,
In the land of no fantasies, dreaming is sin.

Who has the answer, to what lies beyond?
The puppets keep dancing: pulled by the clown.
The king stays alive on his puny lil pawns.
The queen waltzes sideways. The horses go down.

The road that's less taken, sure does sound divine,
Tempting like a good old chilled bottle of wine,
Growing like a cancer, you'd hope was benign.
My ship left the harbour, yesternight at nine.