reeeeemix (ode to evans)

a beautiful day
sun shining outside
but a room with no windows
is where i'm confined
they say that practice makes perfecttion
but right no i can't corers
my fingers to rehearse
these scales in ascending or descending directions
my voice wont do it either
today its acting funny too
phlegm is chocking up my vocal chords
like something caught in a chimney's flue
these pitches just aren't sounding right
somethings wrong with my intonation
maybe theres some correlation
to the room on my left
where the tenant is jamming with mozart in tenor cleft
or, "hey guy next door,"
haven't your practiced those three measures a hundred times before?
and you down the hall
with your pesky bugle calls
can you not hear
your sound waves tearing through these walls?
i want to send you all my hate
why can't you understand
i just can't concentrate
on this bel canto aria i'm singing
with your blaring chopin's endless ringing
until i put myself in your shoes
and deep down I understand
if we started up a band
we would be practicing in these same small rooms
able to commiserate on this terrible fate
of studying music in a building
built far too out of date