O, Erato, speak the name: whisper it to me in the soft night while we slumber, into my ear, into my ear. Euturpe, you flirt, lay with my racked and ruined old bones and move my hand, move my hand. Polyhymnia, live up to your name, and sing of gods undone; leave your song in my head, in my head.
Omaha Civic Auditorium.
Say it twice, and it’s music playing.
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