This isn’t my song, this is not my set,
who brought me to this bar?
who bought me these drinks?
was it you who lent me the suit?
is it your cravat that tightens around my neck?
Jazz isn’t even what I play,
I can’t impress these people,
I don’t even know them,
why do they clap,
even before I get on the stage?
do they like hearing my name?
do they recognize it?
I am not sure if it’s the spotlight,
or a daydream,
but this is not where I was supposed to be,
I am hanging my boots,
I gotta rest a bit.
Jeers and Boos!