The subtle jazz comes on the withered old jukebox
Allowing for subtle hints regarding content and flow
The lights dimmed down real low
They start to come out onto the stage
Accompanying me, their hate like a plague
Brandishing my hands I commence the play

Up and down, side to side
The Moon glaring in from outside
Cold wisps of wind, whispering to me
Finish them, finish them, end their tyranny
And with sudden bravado I all all to see
The lonely heart inside of me

Moments turn to seconds,
Seconds to millineia
The music comes out melancholy and full of hysteria
Around we go
A carousel of fortuitous hope
Written to let the darkness go

Out they fall
To the ground, ashes and all
Nothing but ashes at all