There is no grace in act five   Only the nerves, insect-like twitches   Involuntary bowel movements, and confusion   a snail in salt doesn't fall asleep   with a half-smile   like Grandma from the after-school special   it twists and contorts    it jerks and writhes for some time   like a living severed limb on fire      All the people who taught me card tricks are dying   I've been trying   to get my pop-pop's good looks from old snapshots   And all the people who taught me card tricks are dying   I've been trying   to steal my grandfather's handsome from old photographs      Even if the world is saved   And the couples kiss before the credits list   There will be more than a lifetime of death   In the scrambled signal snow that's left   when the black intake runs out   the invisible frame's death tacked to your movie reel   far outweigh the reel itself      All the people who taught me card tricks are dying   I've been trying   to get my poppa's good looks from old snapshots   And all the people who taught me card tricks are dying   I've been trying   to steal my grandfather's handsome from old photographs      There is no grace in act five      A circus tent and all the folding chairs fit in an old coffin for travel   A circus tent and all the folding chairs fit in an old coffin for travel