They call her name up to the stage
But she’s not sure she should go.
They call her name and yet
Her stomach practically explodes.
It’s not unusual and surely not so desirable,
But she knows it’s her moment so focus, focus.

I know she’s nervous I can see the sweat forming on her brow.
Anticipation, hesitation settles over the crowd.
Anxiety is swelling as the people keep staring
All the while wondering who this girls that’s wearing...

An aubergine Tanglewood.
She starts strumming and she’s humming, set the mood for the room.
Songs with three chords amuses the hoard
With enticing melody’s.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see the eyes in the room.
She closed her eyes and now she’s all alone inside the venue.
It’s not so tragic as she thought it was gonna be.
Still a few more songs left so we’ll see, we’ll see.
Heads are nodding, feet are moving, they’re all feeling the vibe.
She’s the doctor and her music is what she prescribes.
The walls echoing the cheers but the room was too bright.
Nobody will notice when I change the lights to…

Aubergine to change the mood.
She keeps singing and they’re beginning to become unglued.
Ignite the masses and let’s toast glasses
To songs from the guitar.

Drowning in ignorance.
I've given up on myself.
I try to breathe out of bubbles of assurance.
But I die with every breath.
I've decided I want to be a spectator to my own pain
The outsider grieving over a theatrical game.
If I was mature enough maybe I'd laugh
However I'm just an orphaned stranger.
A child taking care of its mother.
And hahahaha isn't it funny we've heard the same story over and over again
Nothing new, everyone's sad right?
But nobody's sad over the same pain
We're self-sufficient only at night.
Have I reached that stereotypical age when all you want to do is sleep?
Oh and how society loves to call this self-discovery.
So I just chose Drowning.
Or dying.
To fulfill the purpose of our perfectly functional society.