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 painstaking 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