Statue in the river

Tables of guests come and go, Finishing score after score of rumbly  conversations and clinking cutlery With glasses of red wine That could've been red been paste.  They're wrapped in glossy dresses, tall In their latest haute couture, Ignoring the lows of their lives in comfortable darkness.  The statue sits Beneath the surface, disconnected With those above who are Preoccupied with their streaks of glowing smears Like watercolour left out in the rain, The flame of society dancing to Disparate notes of a forgotten piano.