Sh*t I Can't Say to My Teacher
I see you
You get up on that podium
Looking calm as water
Waving your arms around
Saving the hopeless for when
The orchestra can’t see
I hear you
You get up on that pulpit
Giving advice like absolution
Singing our praises
Preaching in music
But your flock doesn’t understand
I feel you
You get up on that slab
Rehearsing limbs together
Conducting a misshapen body
Wishing for Frankensteinian lightning
To bring it to life
I follow you
You get up on that battlefield
Drawing your baton
Cutting the air with deft strokes
Holding your army back
From rushing off a cliff
I respect you
You get up on that slope
Rolling your boulder
Singing like Sisyphus
Smiling blandly
When the rock tumbles down
I fear you
You get up on that future
Speaking with my voice
Moving with my arms
Seeing with my eyes
What I will become