An empty hall with muted hands
And dampened fingers moving
To beats once played on young guitars
As old ones, too, were grooving
The tunes cadenced lightly and nobody knew
What on earth followed next
For a round and a shot were valued monetarily
And were deaf to reverbed effects
Songs filled an empty space, and empty heads too
For drinking was prime and better
In places warmer and lands cheaper
Silent, yes, but generic to the letter
An empty mind being clouded by pain
Filling up with chords and a tune
The hall will be bare and without our torture
But will rise again in a blue moon
