Click-clank, click-ckank, clink-clank, clink-clank
These locks only tighten their grips in front of filling stands
Doors bang, feet stomp, eyes scowl.
The vision of these iron chains only become sharper.
I want to stop shaking, stop twiddling my fingers
And move out the sight of these lockdown stares.
I have a job to do!
My name is called in front of the nasses.
It's time to put a show, but when will these chains let go?
When my hand clutches the mmic, when my vocal chords unwrap,
then it is I who has conquered the fear of public speech.
The words run out my mouth, my breath follws after.
I havea voice you hate to love with a personality you love to hate.
The crowd really loves me.