Tchaikovsky's 5th
There is no love in an orchestra
No friendship or kindness
Or means of a smile
A deadly silence which echo's across as
Silently they sit and wait
For the referee to wave the baton
The conductor stands
He waits (a pause)
A feeling of power as tens of eyes
Wait for his upbeat his signal to play
He waves that upbeat...
And battle and battle begins
The final cadence the finishing line
The trumpets blare their single note
Their wait begins and in sign language talk
Of where or why or what or who
Will lose themselves before the first line
A quaver beat
A single blow
A wait a start
Another blow
That passage of semiquavers no one practised
Now dances across the flautists keys
The violinists hammer the melody away
Their fingers like rainwater no one can catch
Their touch as light as a mute mans whistle
While oboe players pierce the sky's
And then...
The end
The final chord
The shake of hands and a smile that says
My fingers hurt
My lips are blue
I'm never playing that b***** piece again
The verdict leaves
It's hearts untouched
It's brains dissecting how
Each beat meant this and this show how Tchaikovsky
Would echo his death yet give us some hope
While ignoring the fact
That it's music not science
(though I doubt they'll know that)
I don't really care
I don't give a damm
I just play and play and play and play
A lonely triangle
Who never gets the tune.