Falling chords

I recognise the piano. Standing thinly and whacawhaca. Over to those who have not a care. Do they show us or do we show them? Could it be? The chorus is unforgettable, etched as a phrase "Do as your told" from beyond the time. Passing on and turning, changing - for them -if they come -. Again the piano, this time joking, playing. With intent, to present the idea of smoke. Purple velvet walls and a boxed crated stage infront of the foot tappers. They have come for these falling chords. Could it be? Could you be? Narcotics with religion, ticking every corner and every seat on the bus.