Tuesday night is writing night

Up at Saturday Night Live.

The cameras are off,

The lights are on,

And no one sleeps.

Everything’s funny

At two in the morning

But that won’t matter

Come read-through time.

Will my sketch make it on?

What kind of degree do I need?

Someday, I’ll live in New York

In a tiny apartment all by myself

But I’ll have that job.

One day, I’ll cry on Saturday night

Because everything’s changed

But I’ll have that job.

My parents tell me it’s too hard.

It’s too hard to get out of Kansas for school,

It’s just not possible to pay my way.

But I need that job.

I was practically born with a pen in my hand,

And journalism just isn’t my style.

Writing jokes for pay with funny people?

That is what I want.

And I’ll stop at nothing to get that job.