Upon the boulevard, I'll be back next week
Lights of the stadium
Make me think life is dumb
Just try conducting-wave a 1, 2,
1 2 3 4-
I'm your director, don't attempt to wear me out
The overseer your older siblings moan about
King of the podium and I'm here to represent
The football coach's nightmare: anti-heaven-sent.
I'm the patron saint of syncopation
With a baton and a taste for humiliation.
Mouthpieces and drumsticks and a bit of insane hope
That I can pull this off, but my students say no.
Raised in the middle schools and pampered night and day
Product of luxury-I'll teach them how to play.
Are you talking to me? I'll give you something to scream about! I'm in charge!
I am your director from the school of hard knocks.
I'm the one that's from the thirty-yard line.
Middle-age commander, the one that docks
Points from your score-eleven, ten, nine...
I'm very proud to say it that I told you so
So open up your mouth and blow that note, you there.
Welcome to the band, I hope you'll understand
You can't complain that this is no fair.
I don't care
Your "lack of air"
I'm your director.
AND DON'T ATTEMPT TO WEAR ME OUT!