Confused band kidConfused band kid5 days ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
8 to 5 my ass
This dot my be my last
All I see is a collesion near by
The tubas march forward and the directors sigh
Another hit to the bell of my horn
The gloves I'm wearing are officially worn
There is no escaping the band machine.
It may be my dot, but the dot owns me.
I slave everyday and for what you may ask
It's not the babes or the sexy bodies that last.
It's the feeling you get when you walk off from state
Like all the pain became something great
But for now I'm a confused band kid, wondering and unsure
But the feeling I get when I hit my one dot, that is the cure