Walk around a posh neo-Victorian city
Gentlemen in the finest tailored suits
Ladies wear the gaudiest of gowns
It’s the night of the masquerade ball

Taking place in a majestic ballroom
High ceilings display murals
Of cherubs in the heavens
An eight piece ensemble

Provides the music
To an anarchist’s waltz around the finely lacquered
Dance floor
Synchronization’s perfect asymmetrical circle

I make my way through the generic crowd
Avoid interfering with the
Disciplined choreography
Rendezvous with the sanctimonious professor

Seated at the end table
Surrounded by the swanky sycophants
Drinks wine from an ornate chalice
I take a seat directly across

From the professor as he removes
His demi-ball mask to give a leer
I greet him in a challenge
For a game of wits

He haughtily accepts
Makes the first move
He leaves me briefly stumped
His drunken bootlicker entourage laughs uncontrollably

I rise out of my seat to make
A retort that will leave him pale and speechless
Forcing him to storm out in dishonor
As the parasites follow along single file

I take a sip from my empirical chalice
Don a black and gold mask
March over to a nearby table
Find a fair lady sullen from rejection

I extend my hand out
In an invitation to be my partner
She gaily accepts, as we make
Our way to the floor to dance the night away