A Song in Syncopated Time


Blow, Gabriel, if you must blow,
Your trumpet at the end of day.
But play a song that's apropos.

Impromptu, neither sad nor slow
Some bluesy jazz without cliché.
If pitiful, don't let us know.

Don't brazen over weakness though
And balance what our worth will weigh
If proud of us, don't let that show.

Not one expression undergo,
Conflicted, not indifferent play.
If puzzled, do not doubt us so.

There's not much heaven here below.
We're pinioned at the scapulae.
Impatient, change the status quo.

A fire sale! It all must go!
Blow, Gabriel, if you must blow
Your trumpet at the end of day.
More time can't help us anyway.

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