As promised, this is a poem about being in pit orchestra. More of a fun joking one really. Seeing as I spent way too much time in he dreaded concrete hole last week. We had two days to learn The Sound of Music and performed 4 times Thursday and friday. And the day we were getting the music, I told two of the other clarinets who are always stealing first parts that I wanted first part. I get to rehearsal afterschool and they stick me with a crappy kid saying that they got there first, when one had last period band aid and my last period was off campus. So I went deaf curtesy of the squeaking other clarinet, and I spent 6 hours writing in sharps and flats in our music and he stiill played wrong notes, and actually used a different copy for the performance. Which basically pissed me off and ruined my week altogether.

Let me free Out of this hellhole
This concrete pit of doom
Its hot and loud and stuffy
And soon we'll have a band kid stew

I can barely see the top stage
Its annoying me to death.
I want to see my favorite show
At least get the music out of my head!

Let me out of this concrete hellhole
Before I rip someone to shreds
Maybe the idiot squeaking in my ear
Or shoot the trumpet in the head.

I've been here for eight hours
I want to go to bed.
Its only a rehearsal.
And look its 10 pm!

Tell me this show is taking longer.
Tell me it will shorter the next time.
The audience is leaving
Even if they are little kids.

This musical takes too long
3 hours is too much
Especially when I've been here
Everyday starting at lunch.

Maybe I'll just kill myself
It will be a simple thing to do
And if I jump into the concrete pit
I'll take some idiots down too!

The trombone should shut his mouth
The trumpet should quiet down
The other second clarinet
Should play right notes or not at all

The first clarinets can go to hell
Hey, they "got there first."
Even though I asked them first
To play the hardest part.

So since I'm stuck on second
With an idiot who lacks all brains
I'll make sure that when I kill myself
They are in my jumping range.

The director gave us candy
A good idea yet bad
It keeps us from all dying
But soon we will have an explosive band

I feel it kicking in
About intermission time
I have to stand to stretch my legs
Or risk a frying brain