...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzEBH6DZJVk

There is a bear beside my back,

A bear with satin frills and elaborate lace -

Little ankle bells and whiplash -

That no longer wishes to dance.

If the mood strikes he might enamor -

Flutter an awk compassion or foreign wonder,

Jitter a sad exhaustion, maybe breathe deep

In longing, faithlessness or antiquation.

But no bear, besides that upon my back,

Ever woke with the sole desire to dance.

No bear exists for the sake of audience -

Nor finds purpose in a crowd's applause.

I am not rigged for demand;

I do not exist to entertain -

I am not designed for satisfaction

Nor feel compulsed to play this game.

Neither the bear nor I will waltz to ease another's weariness

Or offer strength in the form of masochism -

No one will roulette to remove your sadness

Nor swing to the whipping of ecclesiasticism. 

How hypocritical it must feel 

To be compelled by the wounding of the bear,

Yet feel none the worse for wear 

When bending good men beneath the bottom of that heel.

How hypocritical must it feel,
To carry despair for dancing bears, 

Ignoring the placement of your boot-heel.