What makes me tick?
out of what would I pick
What makes me sick?
like gum would the thoughts stick
Strings of the heart, a tune of broken chords,
Searching for a song among broken records,
rising symphony of the wind's harsh wheezing
falling hopes of the audience increasing
We sat and watched at the empty conductor's stand
wondering if he respected our time or even his band
we predicted who he'd be, well, at least a touch of class
our conductor...
