From the Case Files of C. Auguste Dupin
Words and Music by Terry Scott Taylor
©2018 Shape of Air Music
A tell-tale heart is softly beating
Behind the walls, the floor, the ceiling
Of the locked room where we’re kneeling
To touch the stain left by your bleeding
Which formed this imprint of your head
Can these clues be more intriguing
When no who-done-it is this misleading?
We’ve deduced you can’t be breathing
So are we premature in grieving
Though it’s very clear that you are dead?
So bringing wits and secret ciphers,
iPads, quills, pens, and typewriters,
The book-world’s prominent insiders
Arrive to make our burden lighter
And to have a look around
That’s when Gaiman, Moore, and King say
“We have found a hidden doorway”
Then going down a winding staircase,
In Lewis Carroll-style, our foray
Shortly leads us underground
To a shadowy room that is concealing
Truths Sir Doyle’s candlelight’s revealing
Not dead-ends, canards, or double dealings,
Herrings red, or dark deceivings,
Folklore, myths, tall-tales, or fables
It is the thing we’ve all been seeking,
Once diaphanous and fleeting
A tell-tale heart still softly beating
Wrapped in parchment we are reading,
Nailed to a bloody, broken table
Wide-eyed, stunned, and barely breathing,
Each sleuth silently retreating
Without the need to say in leaving
“There is enough here for believing
That is, of course, assuming we are able”
So in the end there’s this,
The stunning final twist:
All in all
We never saw
All we are now seeing
