Lungs by Florence and the Machine. Buy it now.

Jeeeeeeeeeesus I have no idea whatsoever to use this for.
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[Note to Megan: I wrote it down for once!]

All the world's a stage and all the men and women, merely players
Aye, were never truer than at this moment
When we gather round the paltry fire
Our Midsummer Nights 'Dream'
But with a forest in Hayes
For a faery wood

Comedy, Tragedy?
Alas, would that I could tell you
the masks we wear
rather than frowns or smiles bear
the emotion of a newly plastered wall
blank, unchanging. Nothing lies where
flesh should reveal the working of the mind.

Instead, emotions are guarded
(Be it a side effect of this alcohol,
The few drinks we manage to seize,
or general angst)
And I may spend these hours by her side
and know but a little of her for all the words we share

But regardless, we stage a play
the trees the orchestra to our stage
and the stalls? What is your audience?
Should I say that we perform to the forest itself?
No, no grand purpose do these actions have,
rather, expressing childish desire
in a way we so strongly hope is considered adult
Because we're not kids,
you know!

...
You're still here, I note
well do you want an analogy?
Very well- perhaps you may
consider it a dress rehearsal
a forerunner of the follies of later life
but slightly accentuated by our teenage desire
to grow up in nothing but body and privilege
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