And the villainy has begun.
Turn the Brass knob, open the door of mahogany
Woodwinds singing stolen Notes
Of floating green, the rustle of leaves
Is startling. Lunga pausa
You enter, fighting the urge to cough.
The dry air tickles your throat.
It's hard to keep silent
As the entire orchestra steals
Note after note, making it its own,
Growing rich with emotion
And giving it to the Staff(ed)-eared audience.
Oh, the beauty of pseudo-Robinhood
Or maybe it's because we're the ones who benefit
From their plagiarism.
The conductor's the greedy one-
Directing the theft of stacks and stacks of Notes
And leaving none behind.
It tugs on the heartStrings and everyone feels it.
But the rePercussions are deadly.
After the last Breve,
Staccato claps resound like thunder
And the kleptomaniacs are done.
Briefly Breve(ing), breathing their last,
Justice is served.