"Swing low, sweet chariot,
Comin' for to carry me home;
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Comin' for to carry me home."
The strumming of a guitar played into the night, a man with a low voice bellowed out the tune to the sound, dancing sweetly in the streets.
"I looked over Jordan,
And WHAT did I see,
Comin' for to carry me home,
A band of angels comin' after me,
Comin' for to carry me home."
He lifted his eyes to the building across the street, watching an older gentleman walking slowly while his head is buried into the neck of his black haired companion. Giggling and touching as they approached the brownstone in front of them.
The man continued the tune on the guitar.
"Let me hear some more sweet music." He mumbled to himself, smiling at anyone walking by to hear him.
"Oh and sweet music it shall be." A voice spoke back.
"Hey - old man! The music you singing aren't angels to my ears." Another voice gruffly spoke.
The man strummed his guitar again and began the same tune he sang, all over again.
Soon the man across the street entered the brownstone, lights downstairs turned on, silhouette dancing in front of the shades.
"They are both in, about ready to pour a nightcap. Ready for some fireworks to end that song old man?" The gruff voice spoke.
The man chuckled. "Sweet streets of Main get ready to hear wonderful, beautiful music!" The man yelled, playing the tune.
"Boom." The sweet voice and giggle echoed in his ear piece, at the precise moment the brownstone erupted into flames.