Sticks
The band was anxious and about to start
My skinny knees were shaking my heart
Looking out at the crowd and our loving Ma
She was all alone and without our ole Pa
My wooden chair scraped the floor as I sat
With my drum sticks in my hand how’s that
The nice music teacher gave her first bow
Some of started to play some didn’t know
Me I dropped my wooden sticks onto the floor
Rolling and dropping off the stage no more
They moved to the edge and under the waiting seat
They all stopped to watch me climb and pause the beat
My white paper like skirt got caught on the chair mess
Picking up the lost sticks with my rip and tear dress
With the sticks tightly caught in my waiting drumming hand
I climbed back up on to the stage and resumed to play band
As we all packed our tired instruments up and went home
Awaiting for our next ‘you have to play’ for us all alone
“Look I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did.”