It's hard to carry a tune
Some, singing from their youth,
 seem naturally talented
We are such picky receivers
Yet, what a delight when some song
 pushes our buttons
 over and over again
 playing ourselves
 back to ourselves
Winds up in a mystical collection
Yet no way to share with another
 the depth of its echoes through us
 the hidden–spot tickle of its touch
Agony unshared
A dread to share
As like it falls on deaf ears
 the horror of triggers missing in another
 the tip–top registers of our soul
And this some polished piece of painstaken production
How much more terrifying
 when we play ourselves
I trip along as the band plays on
 I might look queer, but I'm certain
 no one holds a candle to my music