Hear
The notes that run and go nowhere
In false pretences
Of pleasing peace which condense
Into droplets of sour tears.

It fills the room with cheery rhythm -
The only Constance pulses through
The foreign scenes which flash by
In hazy blurs of senseless murmurs.

The musicians pack up and go
Try, grasp and tug at fading tastes
all that remain’s a name in letters