One thousand, six hundred and forty two days,
are the reasons why the butterflies do play,
in my stomach, to remind me, it’s time to work,
so, don’t you dare go and hide behind the cork,
be true to yourself man, you are excited too,
for the audience that’s been lost, has made you blue,
help those brothers out, a van has to be packed,
for it’s time to make you long awaited stage back!
We’re all setup, and the soundcheck’s all clear,
but a little problem, these don’t fit, the in-ears,
what if they fall out, and I fall out of kilter,
then the evening falls into a sense of bewilder,
shut up you fool! All will go swimmingly,
so, just take a big breath, stop acting so cynically,
thus, whatever you are playing, just keep on track,
for this is your very much needed stage back!
See, what we’re you grinding your teeth about?
Look at the crowd and the boys, what a cheery shout,
though those in-ears, tried to retreat, the beat was strong,
thus, you on a box and two six strings made a great song,
those butterflies will remain, but you know what to do,
keep on with the magic of your art, please do continue,
you have a gift there friend, I implore you not to sack,
so, endeavour to wear a sure smile, on your next stage back!