She sits in her chair,
The wood touches her neck,
She looks at the ground,
Terrified of regret

Looking at the crowd
Eyes of curiosity
Can she make a sound?
Ignore the blasphemy?

Slowly but surely,
With hesitant hands,
She throws up her arm,
And she starts up the band

She raises her bow,
And when it touches the strings,
The world is amazed
By the beauty she brings