"That's why we call it The Majestic. Any man, woman, child could buy their ticket, walk right in. Here they'd be, here we'd be. "Yes sir, yes ma'am. Enjoy the show." And they'd come entering a palace, like a dream, like in heaven. Maybe you had worries and problems out there, but once you came through those doors, they didn't matter anymore. And you know why? Chaplin, that's why. And Keaton and Lloyd. Garbo, Gable and Lombard, and Jimmy Steward, and Jimmy Cagney. Fred and Ginger. They were Gods. And they lived up there. That was Olympus. Would you remember if I told you how lucky we felt just to be here? To have the privlage of watching them. I mean, this television thing. Why would you want to stay home and watch a little box? Because it's convenient? Because you don't have to get dressed up, because you could just sit there? I mean, how could you call that entertainment, all alone in your living room? Where's the other people? Where's the audience? Where's the magic? I'll tell you, in a place like this, the magic is all around you. The trick is to see it." And with that, I fade away. I'm smiling while he leaves and kills me. I'm going to bury myself in theatre. Bury myself in it up to my eyes. The magic will save me. It's always saved me before. The trick is to see it. (edit) I may be the metaphorical butterfly, but most likely I am a moth. Attracted to a flame that will burn me. You are a flame And I am a child. Let me touch you, and cup you in my hands. I'm savoring your warmth, You'll murder me some day, I'll die screaming, Warmth flooding my vains, Children should learn by fire. Like me, oh how I learn. But you make a pretty flame. Burn your name on my skin, My heart.