I walk through the corridors of a giant school,
Where I know that I'm not better, equal, or cool.
This time is of the essence, I must be prepared,
My band is counting on me, my singer/bassist is scared.
"Sweet dreams are made of these, who am I to disagree?",
The first words come out, as he spews his cry so angry,
The drumming has paused, I'm alone and playing solo,
Put keeping the pace is all that matters, I'm the one who's noticed.
"Moving on!",
The scream of my friend, as he pours out his soul,
As it is time for me, like the bells that have been tolled,
As I push out my heart and play the guitar solo.
"I want to use you! And abuse you!",
We're nearing to the end, where we know we have to make it worth it,
We pound upon our instruments, we know that it is the best thing,
As we strike our final note, where he growls his final fletching.
