Glenn Gould is seeping up the stairs
Sebastian Bach is puttin' on airs

The Goldbergs are rolling balls of blue
filling the house with a shining hue

Half transparent fays 'round the flower pots;
a magical ballet of beauty, lots!

Gould hovering close over his old instrument;
his fingers like claws in sandel wood scent

I barefoot downstairs on this cold winter morn;
I join Glenn Gould; we're both forlorn

Fays' wings glitter and glare,
we're here, we're everywhere