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Description

Ghosts of freshmen,
lost in these catacombs,

listen to our song.

Slipping into the tunnels
as far as barriers allow,

flashlights flickering,

and out --

we hold hands in the dark,

and lift our voices.

Tenors scale to pure elation

and bring us along,

shuddering,

back down.

We rise and fall together.

Our music brightens tired graffiti

and clears stale air.

The nascent sound echoes

into heating pipes,

and creeps through

to pondering men and women --

quietly coloring their time.