The day of the big audition has finally arrived
What will it bring? Despair or joy?
This question goes unanswered as you tremble in silent fear,
Afraid to give up yet at the same time afraid to try.
You've practiced as much as is humanly possible, Yet nerves always get the best of you. All day all you think about is the night to come Anxiously watching the clock.
The hours creep by ever so slowly But then finally the dreaded, wonderful time approaches People wish you good luck but their praises go unnoticed, You're oblivious to the encouragement around you.
Your stomach ties itself in knots; you think you'd rather be sick Than go through this incredible torture Of waiting for your turn, then going into the room To either wow the judge or make her shake her head in disbelief of how horrible you really are.
Lip quivering, you do your best to concentrate - maybe too much Your tempo tears, your fingers fumble, Searching for notes that aren't even there Uninspired, you quickly - horribly - play the rest of your destiny.
Emerging from the room, a look of worried glee on the face Of this excellent musician, afraid to try Who modestly claims they did all right but not great Purely because they were afraid to give up.
In your head you say you did your best and that's good enough But its not - it never will be - your mind will forever torment this poor child of the music You review those horribly excellent passages Wondering how one can be excruciatingly bad and unmistakably wonderful all at once.
You once more slip into a taciturn state of denial Once more awaiting the dreadful, gorgeous hour, The hour that will shatter your confidence The hour of unforgettable emotions.
This time the clock refuses to move, 8 more hours, 7..6.., when will this torture end? It seems useless to find out if you made it - By that time you'll be no longer sane.
You shall make it and be proud for years to come, You shall not make it and be confident never more, Because you, this awful amateur musician, were afraid to try, Yet you, this excellent beautiful musician, were afraid to give up.
You've practiced as much as is humanly possible, Yet nerves always get the best of you. All day all you think about is the night to come Anxiously watching the clock.
The hours creep by ever so slowly But then finally the dreaded, wonderful time approaches People wish you good luck but their praises go unnoticed, You're oblivious to the encouragement around you.
Your stomach ties itself in knots; you think you'd rather be sick Than go through this incredible torture Of waiting for your turn, then going into the room To either wow the judge or make her shake her head in disbelief of how horrible you really are.
Lip quivering, you do your best to concentrate - maybe too much Your tempo tears, your fingers fumble, Searching for notes that aren't even there Uninspired, you quickly - horribly - play the rest of your destiny.
Emerging from the room, a look of worried glee on the face Of this excellent musician, afraid to try Who modestly claims they did all right but not great Purely because they were afraid to give up.
In your head you say you did your best and that's good enough But its not - it never will be - your mind will forever torment this poor child of the music You review those horribly excellent passages Wondering how one can be excruciatingly bad and unmistakably wonderful all at once.
You once more slip into a taciturn state of denial Once more awaiting the dreadful, gorgeous hour, The hour that will shatter your confidence The hour of unforgettable emotions.
This time the clock refuses to move, 8 more hours, 7..6.., when will this torture end? It seems useless to find out if you made it - By that time you'll be no longer sane.
You shall make it and be proud for years to come, You shall not make it and be confident never more, Because you, this awful amateur musician, were afraid to try, Yet you, this excellent beautiful musician, were afraid to give up.