When dragging my bow
Long, drawn out, and dull
I often wonder what they hear
If my violin strikes their ear

But I know they will not hear me alone
I'm playing a concert in this home
To many a fair, to many a famous
Still I sit tall, still I sit shameless

My fingers are dancing, turning the page
I stand near the end, and bow, on the stage
Hands are joyously clapping
I yawn, because, I'd rather be napping

We close our last song with a little soul
Some girl, as we're leaving, drops her cello
And I already feel ready to be back in school
****, could playing the violin be anymore cool?