From the Top


There's a language barrier

That keeps my audience from connecting

The dots the composer wrote

Nail me to the cross

Bar of an eighth note

Music needs a savior


The tritone of my alarm clock

That perfect fifth of May

Waking up early

440 A

EMory board

My nails produce the tone

No amp, picks, or cord


My guitar

The wood is hollow

How high does the tempo have to be for the audience to forget to swallow


The greatest compliment is to tell me that I move you

To tiers higher


I met a schizophrenic who claimed to be brain dead

I offered him a counterpoint,

Bach replaced the voices in his head



This music makes my heart sore

They say I have a staph infection

Music’s gonna kill me

Just incase

Use my case as a coffin



I strive not to impress

But rather depress

And impress upon the audience

That sometimes the best part of music is the rest





My dad says don't fret

If I press a wrong fret

It's about the feeling

Musics like an onion

Peel it back

And it's appealing


If music is a universal language

Why to my generation is it unknown

my guitar has a rosette

But it's no Rosetta Stone


I etch different clefs in my chest

Trying to find the right key to my audience’s emotions


Trying to break down the fourth Wall

My best friend never had because she was homeless


It's acoustically dry

but soaked with tears

I wish my guitar was like a mirror

People’s mouth like my sound hole gasping for air


See my luthier built an ark

For my flood of inspiration

It's a little bit small

To ride the waves of emotion


I wanna move people

Call it a mass migration

To a world where people enjoya 4 hour opera

Over instant gratification


Their eyes wide awake

Staring like fermatas

Feet tapping on the ground

Ratta tat tatta


Musics like a gift

That you have to unwrap

They say I have many talents

But I'm still a few cents flat