they say that there's a broken light for every heart on broadway
they say that life's a game and then they take the board away
they give you masks and costumes and an outline of the story
then leave you all to improvise their vicious cabaret

in no longer pretty cities there are fingers in the kitties
there are warrants, forms and chitties and a jackboot on the stair
there's sex and death and human grime in monochrome for one thin dime
and at least the trains all run on time but they don't go anywhere
facing their responsibilities either on their backs or on their knees
there are ladies who just simply freeze and dare not turn away
and the widows who refuse to cry will be dressed in garter and bow-tie
and be taught to kick their legs up high in this vicious cabaret

at last the 1998 show! the ballet on the burning stage
the documentary seen upon the fractured screen
the dreadful poem scrawled upon the crumpled page
there's a policeman with an honest soul that has seen whose head is on the pole
and he grunts and fills his briar bowl with a feeling of unease
then he briskly frisks the torn remains for a fingerprint or crimson stains
and endeavours to ignore the chains that he walks in to his knees 
while his master in the dark nearby inspects the hands with brutal eye
that have never brushed a lover's thigh but have squeezed a nation's throat
and he hungers in his secret dreams for the harsh embrace of cruel machines
but this lover is not what she seems and she will not leave a note

at last the 1998 show! the situation tragedy!
grand opera slick with soap! cliff-hangers with no hope!

the water-colour in the flooded gallery

there's a girl who'll push but will not shove and she's desperate for her father's love
she believes the hand beneath the glove may be the one she needs to hold
though she doubts her host's moralities she decides that she is more at ease
in the land of doing-as-you-please than outside in the cold
but the backdrops peel and the sets give way and the cast gets eaten by the play 
there's a murderer at the matinee, there are dead men in the aisles 
and the patrons and the actors too are uncertain if the show is through
and with sidelong looks await their cue but the frozen mask just smiles 

at last the 1998 show! the torch-song no one ever sings!
the curfew chorus line! the comedy divine!
the bulging eyes of puppets, strangled by their strings!
there's thrills and chils and girls galore there's sing-songs and surprises!
there's something here for everyone, reserve your seat today!
there's mischiefs and malarkies or yids or darkies
within this bastard's carnival, this vicious cabaret

- V for Vendetta (graphic novel)