It's the memory you let go
Not the stimuli of the ghost
Injecting opera into the corridor of the queens latest estate
And so you slip on past the bazaar
Troubles d.o.a. away thus far
"I'm not so criminal in a cathedral," you remark as the blimps fade away
"Is this an epilogue?" doc asks
While the nurses five float past
"We'd like to regulate, but not aggravate and bring this dance to a close."
And while you sit and think about that
Something invisible falls flat
And we'll not know today what it had to say
But I'm sure it'll be back