All the treasure was headed towards to sewer
Then floats instead towards the doctor looking newer
Harry thought she meant the other bureau
The one in the study
Not the one in the hallway filled with
Vintage Confederate Money
She called out from the top of the stairs
To tell him that the latch had needed repair
His father left it to him after he died at the fair
Counting all the little metal squares
Luther found it hidden in the attic
And Harry didn't even realize he even had it
For a weekend fifty years ago he was preternaturally lucky
Now his ashes are the same attic and they're getting dusty
She called out with a dubious glare
Telling him the man he's talking to isn't even there
He left his life on a flight of metal stairs