shooting the breeze
jumping the gun
behind a comfortable desk he judges you
with a hand on his knee and liquor in his lungs
I've been waiting for this
don't you love this song?
of course you do
it used to make you smile
dead cellists lined up
drowning in the symphony
looking at your watch
don't you love this song?
dead cellists and forgotten percussionists
don't you want to sing along?
of course you do
it'll cheer you up
dead cellists and sad tenors
drunk parents and passing time
with a hand on your knee and a knife in your back
don't you want to sing along?
dead cellists and dying composers
and you try to forget but the music never dies