Some kind of sad violinist I am.
Whether it's mentally or through the way my fingers move.
Notes come out flat
and rhythms come out pathetically;
but maybe it's just the violinist.
She hates the way she is
and hates the way she looks
and can't stand how everything else seems so perfect.
But some reason it's only the music that lifts her.
Some how she manages throughout the piece.
Like some how she manages throughout life.

It goes by fast, like one big blur.