[Music box begins] [Ticking clocks] [Soft waltz in 3/4] Verse 1 I came upon a museum On a quiet cobbled square, A brass clock hung above the door Still ticking at the air. The evening mist lay low and blue. The street had long since cleared. Yet somewhere in the building A music box appeared. A gentleman in tails stepped out As if he'd always been."Welcome, sir. Admission's six and seven."I said, [ask curiously and gently] "Six and seven what?" [reply pondering and thoughtful] He said, "Nobody's asked before."… He opened wide the heavy doors. [said matter of fact] "Inside you'll find displayed The things that everybody knew Before they slowly faded." Chorus Close your eyes and mind the dust, The clocks are striking four, Hear the old certainties dancing Behind the velvet cord. Every age was sure at last It knew what none before, Now they're waltzing through the shadows Across the museum floor. Verse 2 Beneath the first glass cabinet Sat Dragon Map Number Three. A plaque beneath it proudly read: Verified Absolutely Until 1903 Nearby stood bottled moonlight, A machine predicting rain, And a leather-bound instruction book Explaining why bees can't sustain Themselves upon the air for long. Or so it once explained. I asked, "Did people really believe these?" The curator smiled. "Oh yes. Quite passionately." Chorus They were certain. Oh, so certain. Every one before. Now they dance beneath the lamplight Behind the velvet cord. Round and round the music turns, Round and round once more, Yesterday's unquestionable truths Waltzing round the floor. Verse 3 The second hall was larger, Filled with forecasts through the years. Flying cars by nineteen sixty. Peace on Earth by eighty-three. The world ending several times, Repeated faithfully. One prophet chose a Tuesday. Another settled on July. One planned it from a blood-red moon. One saw answers in the sky. The curator merely shrugged. [whispered hauntingly] "They seemed convinced enough." Verse 4 Hall three felt slightly heavier. The laughter disappeared. Here were all the little certainties People carried year by year. A photograph of strangers labelled: [read in questioning fashion] Enemies for Life (?) Beneath it stood a wedding picture. Same couple. Forty-five. A note that read: "He'll never change." A note: "She'll never stay." A thousand human certainties Softly turning grey. Chorus Close your eyes and mind the dust, The clocks are striking four, Hear the old certainties dancing Behind the velvet cord. Every age was sure at last It knew what none before, Now they're waltzing through the shadows Across the museum floor. They were certain. Oh, so certain. Every one before. Now they dance beneath the lamplight Behind the velvet cord. Verse 5 The fourth hall stretched for miles it seemed. The ceilings disappeared. The clever men. The experts. The crowds. All gathered here. A plaque upon the far wall read: [whispered loudly] “Widely Held Opinions, Now retired from service” For once No one seemed amused. Bridge The curator walked in silence. No speeches. No big reveal. Just footsteps on old marble floors And dust caught in the beams. The music box kept turning. The clockwork softly sighed. Then he stopped beside a velvet curtain. "Last room on the right." Verse 6 [spine tingling moment] The final room stood empty. No maps. No kings. No stone. No famous failed prediction. No forgotten throne. Just a mirror standing quietly Beneath a single light. And under it a brass plaque read: Current Exhibit Things YOU Might BE Wrong About I stared into the mirror. The mirror stared back too. For several moments [spooky sounds] Neither of us Quite knew what to do. Final Chorus Close your eyes and mind the dust, The clocks are striking four, Hear the old certainties dancing Behind the velvet cord. They were certain. Oh, so certain. Every one before. Now they're waltzing through the shadows Across the museum floor. Round and round the music turns, Round and round once more, Yesterday's unquestionable truths Waltzing round the floor. And one day mine may join them too, Behind the velvet cord, Another certainty preserved In the Museum of Certainties. Outro The curator smiled politely. "Don't worry, son," he said. "Nobody likes that exhibit. Most prefer the dragons instead." The music box stopped turning. The clock struck six once more. I tipped my hat, Picked up my bag, And stepped back through the door. "Go on then..." And on we went... [Ticking fades] [Music box slows and stops] [Distant accordion from the next adventure]
