It must be cool to be in a band

Everyone says so

The adoration from the crowd

It shouldn't really be allowed

 

We're all idols in our own time

But some need more 

Time after time

While ever rotting at the core

 

Musicing is now a verb

But it always has been hasn't it?

Plucking, strumming and picking

It hardly warrants any thinking 

 

I find it an ever darkening cave

increasing in a dank moist rave

not obtuse but somehow concave

with the light behind me

flickering as I give my last wave