Iím bathed in light, for all to see,
I meet my cues, the chords, the usual trifle,
The mike stand on the stage: a perfect effigy,
I walk across and take it like a rifle.
That stupid mike, it hates me, I suppose,
It has no choice but listen to my voice.
And, given half a chance, it will expose
The smallest note, at which I lose my poise.
Those spotlights are taking my eyesight from me,
Stinging my face, they never once turn,
This single projectorís all I see,
How it burns! it burns, it burns!..