Tough Crowd
Singing songs for all this time,
Ignorantly ignoring the truth.
Through the crash of the drums,
Past the cold staring eyes,
And the silent but evident sighs.
Was it something I said?
Was it something I did,
That dashed the color, the joy from each face?
They just stare like the dead.
Their glares, knives at my throat.
To the Reaper, my career will fall.
Now knowing, yet knowing all along.
What a wonderful tragedy this will be,
As the last note rings endlessly in my head.
9/8/04
2 comments:
So you've met my family. Just kidding, I've been there...and it's the lonliest way to be alone without being by yourself. did you get that?
Rene
I totally get where you're coming from. For me it wasn't so much about being alone as it was having the anxiety of performing on stage and feeling like you're not living up to everyone's standards.
But that's the life of a performer sometimes I guess.
Thanks for the comment. :)
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