Tiny Little Band

There’s a tiny little band playing inside my head, 

Maybe they’ll finally stop their music when I’m gone and dead,

They play from the moment I get up till it’s time to rest,

Sometimes they’re amazing and others not the best,

 

They play different music depending on the day,

They’ll play the Beatles one second, then three days grace,

They’ll play 21 guns, then start on amazing grace,

It really doesn’t matter the time or place.

 

Their music is alright and sometimes I don’t mind,

But other days It makes me really just wanna die,

They just keep going and I don’t know why,

But if they don’t stop soon I’m going to cry.

 

The music changes constant ever minute or two,

How they ever decide I have not the slightest clue,

They’ll play jazz, classical, and even blues,

I just wish sometimes they’d let me choose.

 

I just hope and pray one day their guitar strings would pop,

Or their singer will get the flu and isn’t feeling to hot,

Maybe they’ll play too long and the instruments rot,

I don’t care how it goes I just want it to STOP!