Hang some tie-dyed tapestry over your sound treatments.

I call them ear hooks.

Well, I wonder which song they’re gonna play when we go. I hope it’s something quiet and minor and peaceful and slow. When we float out into the ether, into the Everlasting Arms, I hope we don’t hear Marley’s chains we forged in life.

Did you hear the fifty-nine Sound coming through on grandmother’s radio? Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls? Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over? Did you hear your favorite song one last time?