All I feel is the wrong kind of pressure,
And all I want is the right kind of pressure,
And I don’t know how to make it better,
I wonder if I’ll ever be alright,
Sometimes before I go out at night,
I had a plan but I lost sight,
I make music in my own way,
Joints cracking and popping,
The rhythm of tension tricks me,
Such unpleasant sounds when feet hit the ground,
Could just be a bad day today.
Maybe it’s just a bad day.
Maybe if I close my eyes long enough,
And hold my breath til I’m blue in the face,
I can find a quiet place,
Where I can smile without trying,
Where I can live without lying,
Where I can go to sleep every night,
And wake up every day,
Feeling like things are going to go, my way.
A long sigh should come at the end of that,
Punctuated by a stuttered exhalation,
I finally found that sound,
The forlorn vibrato.