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Description
movement I

i walk upon the stage
my mind and heart
a tormented rage

no cast or crew
no lights or sound
only regrets all around

i read my lines
but nobody knows
i long the day the curtain will close

a one act pllay
the first, the last
if i waste my time has passed

im afraid i might trip and fall
i wish i could slow time down
or better yet, turn it around

a missed line is a bitter fall
when people watching me
is one, not all

my play is played
my song is sung
but the act's not over i havent won

theres still a chance to redeem myself
for that one missed line
will i chance it or take my spot in back of the line

movement II

back stage i see all
i see the laughs, the smacks, the falls
i change the set
to make a fantasy come true
no one but me knows the truth
about the plywood hills, the plastic rocks
and the sun that isnt really there
all in black i slink around
waiting, watching, for the lights and sound
the audience's bliss amuse me
the oblivious fools know not the taste of truth
the actors' arrogance angers me
they know not the sweat of changing the world
i change the world, i make the rain
the silent one, and no one knows my pain.

movement III

this opera must end
the last song must come
the villain must die
the hero must have won

but what if it doesnt
what if there is no last song
what if the hero dies
what if evil has won

the script is unclear
on what the actors should do
from now on its improv
here the story comes out, and who is who

they finish the act to roaring applause
they put on a smile
for the family and friends
they take out their paper, they take out their pens.

the costumes come off
and put onto a rack
the stage is destroyed
the plywood hills put back

i took the chance
to redeem myself
for that damn missed line
i won't take my spot in the back of the line

Description
movement I

i walk upon the stage
my mind and heart
a tormented rage

no cast or crew
no lights or sound
only regrets all around

i read my lines
but nobody knows
i long the day the curtain will close

a one act pllay
the first, the last
if i waste my time has passed

im afraid i might trip and fall
i wish i could slow time down
or better yet, turn it around

a missed line is a bitter fall
when people watching me
is one, not all

my play is played
my song is sung
but the act's not over i havent won

theres still a chance to redeem myself
for that one missed line
will i chance it or take my spot in back of the line

movement II

back stage i see all
i see the laughs, the smacks, the falls
i change the set
to make a fantasy come true
no one but me knows the truth
about the plywood hills, the plastic rocks
and the sun that isnt really there
all in black i slink around
waiting, watching, for the lights and sound
the audience's bliss amuse me
the oblivious fools know not the taste of truth
the actors' arrogance angers me
they know not the sweat of changing the world
i change the world, i make the rain
the silent one, and no one knows my pain.

movement III

this opera must end
the last song must come
the villain must die
the hero must have won

but what if it doesnt
what if there is no last song
what if the hero dies
what if evil has won

the script is unclear
on what the actors should do
from now on its improv
here the story comes out, and who is who

they finish the act to roaring applause
they put on a smile
for the family and friends
they take out their paper, they take out their pens.

the costumes come off
and put onto a rack
the stage is destroyed
the plywood hills put back

i took the chance
to redeem myself
for that damn missed line
i won't take my spot in the back of the line