“Piano, they say you can play some mean blues
But all I see are black and white hues
You don’t get to dictate when the song is done
Let the orange violins do its God-given job
You think you’re so bad, with all the notes you play
But all you do is fill the room with dark pretty noise
Let the master sit on your bench
And fill the air with orchestral flair
“The winds! So loud and potent
Strings! To calm the body’s soul
Thunders, purple, send the bastards to Hell!!!
Only blues and yellows can distill the spell”
Not a sound, not a flute
Not a soul was given quarter
The cellos slashed, the violins twanged
No ear was spared from the silver cabaret
A drum sent the cry
A trumpet close behind
Violas marched, their presence not felt,
While all the high notes soared from soulless to deaf
Battle in the air!
The angels fell in doom
Circles of greens saved some
All sound, no glory
No red blood, but blue
Yet a sound seemed to calm the storm
An ocarina or silver bells
Far away, in the distance
A sound yet unheard
Was it a multitude of things?
Or is death that really simple?
The gongs! That was the bane
That sent shivers down my hair
A flick of the hand, the joust meets its end
It’s time to go home, all the players now rest.