Smoke

Lots of smoke, he takes his place on the stage

The lights dim and his fingers calmly strum a few strings

Vibrations echoing in the mike

Heat

Not a flicker of fear in his stone-hard face

The indifference the heated spotlight brings

Time to go, do or die

Well, I'd dreamt it so many times before

I knew the notes like my hands

I know the intricate pattern of lines and scars pressed on them

I once knew the dark faces out in the audience, tanned

Another cigarette is pressed to some loner's lips

Smooth glass of wine to the mouth like a drunken kiss

For some reason, I feel nothing

I feel nothing, nothing

Paralyzed in fear, he panics and looks up

All the judging eyes narrow in decision

He stutters, the once-gliding strummed notes fail him

Just as his words do, but no one listens

Hangs his head as the spotlight thins,

A magnifying glass over a tiny, insignificant ant

Mind draws a blank as he retries, but can't

The music has lost him

Or has he lost it?

Or has he lost it?

Sweat trickles down his fevered brow

Letters form words at last, but it's too late now

In a last effort to redeem his lost dignity

He lifts his head but his eyes look down

And with one strum, the song in resumed

Through the smoke he looks for a comforting face

But all the eyes are twice as piercing now

Waiting on another flaw

Is it really so hard to get back up after you fall,

Harder than to continue after an obvious flaw?

Through the fog, the confusion, I try to forget my mistakes

But knowing they are there haunting me, sometimes that's all it takes

Once you're down, you're down and out

No one waits to hear the count

After you fall off the tightrope once, all anyone looks for is the next time you drop

But you can't stop

Halfway through...his voice shakes again

Middreaming, I finally awake and then

I hear the voice echoing in my head, a broken record

I get up, get ready for the day

Within awhile, I'm on my way

Walk over the dew-splattered grass with new hope redeemed in me

And then I sing

If I mess up, I won't let it get to me

Hold back the disappointment, make the smoke start clearing

I pull out the piano bench with trembling fingers

Still his voice lingers

The voice of who? The voice of my muse?

I don't owe talent to anyone...

It is of my own accord that I live

And talent is all I have now to give

Is it really so hard to get back up after you fall,

Harder than to continue after an obvious flaw?

Through the fog, the confusion, I try to forget my mistakes

But knowing they are there haunting me, sometimes that's all it takes

Once you're down, you're down and out

No one waits to hear the count

After you fall off the tightrope once, all anyone looks for is the next time you drop

But you can't stop