When the night is still and you can’t hear a sound… That’s when the chorus of our past comes around.
One by one our mind they encamp, slightly we’ll hear the crescendo vamp. Then their beat begins to drum. Then the choir starts to hum.
The instruments they play are well known, as is the haunting melody of past seeds sown. While dancing to their frenzied beat the deeds of the past come out from retreat.
The Sharp and Flat notes are all they can play… Not attuned to the harmony we live by today.