THE BAND PLAYED ON

Like a broken heart that skips a beat
this drunkard staggers empty streets
with hallowed tunes on lacquered lips
tremored hands and shaking quips
mouthing soft and somber songs
How this band plays on and on

And as I stumble down each path
tripped by stones and broken glass
torn apart by blades of grass
Bereft and empty souls drift past
And call again, strike up the brass
Voices rise and then they’re gone
and still this band plays on and on

And while the marchers passing through
reflect upon the things they knew
ruffled, pummeled, black and blue
unerring in the things they do
Strange, they sing and dance along
This mighty band plays on and on

And those who watch and hear them wail
darkly secret, gothic tales
hear the words and catch a chill
like drunks who sway and have their fill
no one dares repeat that song
as long as bands play on and on