The poem is built from one long, anxious question, and it never settles on an answer. The speaker imagines the dead as still suffering, coughing and thirsty, while the world carries on around them with a sparrow singing so sharply it seems to shred the curtains. The speaker worries that when the resurrection comes, these people will be overlooked or refused even a sip of cool water.
The last lines turn from worry to something bleaker. The curtain falls, as if on a performance, and what remains is a damaged record: a groove of shiny shellac, its label scratched off, a hole where the center should be. A record with no label has lost its name, and a hole "in place of a heart" suggests emptiness and anonymity. The title, "Stop the Music," feels like a plea or a protest. The mood is uneasy and sorrowful, with a dry, bitter edge. The speaker seems to doubt that any kind of rescue is coming.