The band

Oh old guitar
play me a verse, won't you?
Strum up a tune
or write a new virtue.
Recite me some chords
teach me the chorus.
How's that refrain go?
Never mind, I don't think I'd like to know.

Here goes piano, showing off.
We get it, now that's enough.
What's that you say?
Ray Charles is rolling in his grave?
You can say hello
because that's where you will go
if you don't shut up.

Mr.Percussion just showed up
a whole hour late, with beer in his cup.
"Let's get thing started, i gotta party at 10"
Listen we're not saying it again
the practice starts at 7, not at 8.
Not that we could ever let him go
his solo's are so great.

Microphone is the corner
jotting down a song.
We try and tell him that we're starting
but his attention is far gone.
Composing the next symphony,
for all the world to sing along.

Bass guitar is fast asleep
his girlfriend dumped him for some creep.
We can tell he needs a cry
but we'll never see it from this guy.
A hardcore rocker, that's his name.
To him the music ain't no game.

Our practices are not worth gold
far less than perfect, so we've been told.
But when the crowd comes and hears us jam
they turn to others and say "god damn"

Why?
It's simple.
We're the band.