Encore
Lights, after being dimmed for eternal seconds,
Disguise my shadow in the darkness,
Hindering my appearance while on stage
For the conclusion of my first performance
In an arena.
All of the “It will never happen(s)” and the “You’ll never make it(s)”
I have heard, even sometimes from my own mouth,
Represent all the fans on the sold-out floor,
Deeming my own platinum success and golden effort.
After taking a brief moment to soak in the feelings of joy and accomplishment
The crowd’s screams escalate,
Demanding to perform my Grammy-winning piece,
“The Cigarette Lighter’s Anthem.”
Still on stage, lighters pop up one by one,
From front to back. And soon,
This enormous coliseum is lit
By Bics of every color.
And my shadow, as well as my face,
Re-reveals itself
Stepping out of darkness
During this time of pure ecstasy,
If such a feeling exists.
I look to my drummer,
Far behind my place onstage,
Snap my fingers seven times,
And wait for his stick
To whistle through the air,
Unleashing freedom and passion
Onto the faces of three drums,
And three thousand people.
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