Symphony

The cymbals crash loud
At the base of the cliff,
As the whole rhythm section explodes.
The mournful trombones
Emit passionate moans
As the harsh, squawking piccolo goads.

The tubas all blow
From the deep down below,
While the harp sings a mem’ry-filled song.
‘Tis a symphony played
Since the world first revolved,
Never-ending, rejoicing and strong.