Will Others Sing Our Songs? The museum is dark and empty, I'm working late tonight, Cataloging relics of A world that died when Man was not yet Man. There's writing on this tablet. What meaning did it have? I doubt we'll ever know although We'll try to piece together what we can. CHORUS: Will others sing our songs when our world is in its grave, Even when our voices do not fit their ears? And what of their tomorrows, when time itself grows cold? Will there be something better than oblivion? They say they found the tablet Lying with the ruins Of instruments of music that were Never made for human hands or breath. And as I touch the carvings I somehow think I know The song that they were singing as they Realized their world was facing death. CHORUS Museums are always haunted, I sort of half believe, By those who lived with all the things We keep as a reminder of the past. And something Unseen tells me They'll never truly die. Across the gulfs of space and time Their songs are being sung again at last. CHORUS -- Tom Digby 18:31 02/23/2002