Limit

The first
Second
And third mock
Shine you a spotlight
Freeze your spot
Fool and an ounce naive
To believe
That their mouths would shut
When you went to sleep
But your stories are theirs
Try hiding the shame
One joke then another
Wont they quit with the claims
That your temper is quiet
As quiet as you
While you sit down and listen
The talks about you
Well what did you expect?
What did you think?
A definite limit
Should have closed up the links
And if you bite your thumb
Or contract your jaw
Its a "hold on there"
Or a "put down your claws"

.

It's heart-breaking to know some people doubt you. But I guess it's even more hurtful to watch them choose a path you know is more secure, and that in essence, they can talk down to you from the heights of their professionalism. I want to be a musician. And to so many people that hear that, they have the same involuntary reaction of widening their eyes, of letting out an "oh", almost as if they should feel sorry for me.
I understand them.
Music isn't a stable profession. I might make millions in a day or cents in a month, there's no telling what can happen. But somehow, I ceaselessly march on. I haven't even applied to any other college other than the one I believe I belong in.
It would make no sense for me to be anywhere else other than some music college.
Yet, I get thelingering thoughts...
I want to give my kids the same opportunities my dad gave to me. I want them to be comfortable in a home they can brag about, in a school they can be well educated in, and have a dad they can be proud of.
There is always going to be this chance of failing, even if we believe we can win, it wont go away.
Its there.
Always.