There is music that will play on,
when we are gone.
When we have slept,
And when we have weapt,
moving away
to a another day.
The music will still play
on for it's own
And for no one,
As when we are gone,
The stars won't be done,
They blink
They shine like a golden ink,
They will never leave,
They'll dance,
And we'll greave
And leave.
Just as we have always done,
And they will never do.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 7:28 PM UTC
There is music that will play on,
when we are gone.
When we have slept,
And when we have weapt,
moving away
to a another day.
The music will still play
on for it's own
And for no one,
As when we are gone,
The stars won't be done,
They blink
They shine like a golden ink,
They will never leave,
They'll dance,
And we'll greave
And leave.
Just as we have always done,
And they will never do.
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