A Little Tune

I hear a little tune in my ear
not the rock of today, nor the metal of tomorrow
something older, something newer
through the waters of time
When the glorious sheen birlliance is no more
When music loses its sheen and is deeper,
abandoned.


Yet it developed its own tune
a little more rustic, rusty perhaps
washed down, and blown
it blows in my ear, so quiet so solemn
not unlike a bird whistle
yet a little deeper, deeper
into my heart
it speaks of freedom.
Not the cunning words of a conniving bastard
but it comes from the horn of a bugle
mellow, touching my heart

Behold, shed your old clothes of despair
Curtains are no longer in fashion sir
Throw off your mask
The ball is long, past its prime
Behold the day, when old becomes new
and new turns old.