Symphonic Monique
Waiting in the yellow of the doorway
The campus is empty and cold
The buildings' eyes are all empty
The string quartet is waiting
There in the linoleum rooms
There in the rooms of mahogany

Above live the stars of November
Descendents of the constellations of spring
Descendents of last year's stars
This year's stars' ancestors last year

The old ones carry away memories
You much reach out for them to remember
You must dial them in in your mind's eye
This is where you navigate the heavens
When you navigate the heavens