Dead man at the keyboard
for a silent symphony.
The keys make no music
but click of sheer misery.
Mr. Bones plays trumpet;
Skeletal bangs his chest, drums.
The ghosts in the closet
are all drunk from too much rum.
The dead man's eyes red, blaze,
as the tones of time run out.
Suddenly he makes noise--
you should hear him laugh and shout.
Earth has been expended,
there are parties up and down.
Heaven, Hades quiver
as newcomers come around.
Dead man at the keyboard
plays, then drones, a melody:
“Your lifetime investment--
is it joy or misery?”
The ivories, tickled,
know we each sow what will be.