To all my good friends who requested a contemporary musical theme and are old enough to remember a Pink Floyd gig.
The audience adulation dies,
to a reverential hush, emerging
slowly persistently, the gentle
pulsing of the human heart.
The ticking of a carriage clock,
a disembodied scream.
The metallic burr of some machine,
a frenzied maniacal laugh...
‘This time, the air you like
I’ll breath, damage any brain
Eclipse the great gig in the sky
Colour money on the run
Speak to us and them’
The people roar, the band perspires,
the stage is plunged to black.
The discordant cries go on awhile,
the band returns with one last song,
then they’re gone and the people rush
by every door to home... and food... and rest.
