The homeowners, gone to the cape, Have instructed their house to exude
Ninety minutes of Mozart on tape
But what magic flute can delude The dimmest-brained housebreaker? Light,
Precisely as ordered to, glows
From dusk till eleven at night,
At which digital clockstroke those
Who neither consume nor cast shade, Behind the drawn blinds of their
cell, Into beds that stay creaselessly made,
Have to slide, impalpable, In a mansion computer-programmed
To make threatening noise, a machine For containing the souls of those damned
To a haven of perfect routine.