Music as a Job

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I stand on the stage,

the mic in my hand,

with one final breath,

I look to the band.

 

The song, it begins,

the guitars, they strum,

the audience listens,

and they begin to hum.

 

This is our time,

our moment, our rhyme,

It's not about you or me,

but you AND me,

don't you see?

 

We are all together,

right here, right now,

one big happy family,

and we all know how.

 

We all have our problems,

yes, we all know.

But now it is time to

get up and go.

 

Forget all your problems,

just throw them away,

I know we're all troubled,

but we're all here today.

 

Who cares what they say,

who needs them anyway?

I'll give you the mic,

show me what it's like.

 

And I will come right back

with these words that I wrote,

about losing a loved one

or a suicide note.

 

Depressing, I know,

but we know it's the truth.

It's a shame that these problems

sum up our youth.

 

As the set goes along,

we sing on and on.

By the end of the night,

our voices are gone.

 

Our energy was all

laid out in each song,

just playing and singing

about how everything's wrong.

 

In the end, we don't care.

Though our problems we still own,

In the end we are assured that

we are not alone.

 

Doing this as a job?

Now, THAT I would like.

Because in the end I know that

This is what's right.

 

Music connects us,

through bad and through good,

and even for those

who are misunderstood.

 

And even in silence

one can cut with a knife.

Just one job,

may change my life.

 

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