Without her voice a city does grieve, in silence will none but the young
find reprieve. Forgotten how to listen they have! Or perhaps never knew?
Tis sad, only years will give them a clue. And when that day strikes
them, o the tears they will shed. For now that they've made it they will
have to sleep in their bed. No lullaby to lull them, no reverie or
dream. For they banished the music under their foolish regime.

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Chronos, in the year 385 AF.