~~~~~~~~ [voraciousTreasure has uploaded a photo!] ((It is a photo of a small cylinder made of carved mother-of-pearl, a slit down the length of it. Flat segements of bone connected by tiny hooks spill from the gap in a ladder-like formation, ancient Alternian lettering carved into each one.)) I have spent the night so far restoring a scroll-song. It dates from around thirty seven sweeps pre-Condescension; the bone plating is in surprisingly good condition, with the inscription still clear under the fossilised silt. The translated inscription on the casing declares the song's title as 'Rowboats', and the contents read as follows: 'All the rowboats in the paintings They keep trying to row away And the captains' worried faces Stay contorted and staring at the waves They'll keep hanging in their gold frames For forever, forever and a day All the rowboats in the oil paintings They keep trying to row away, row away Hear them whispering French and German Dutch, Italian, and Latin When no one's looking I touch a sculpture Marble, cold and soft as satin But the most special are the most lonely God, I pity the violins In glass coffins they keep coughing They've forgotten, forgotten how to sing, how to sing First there's lights out, then there's lock-up Masterpieces serving maximum sentences It's their own fault for being timeless There's a price to pay and a consequence All the galleries, the museums Here's your ticket, welcome to the tombs They're just public mausoleums The living dead fill every room But the most special are the most lonely God, I pity the violins In glass coffins they keep coughing They've forgotten, forgotten how to sing They will stay there in their gold frames For forever, forever and a day All the rowboats in the oil paintings They keep trying to row away, row away' #lyricposting