If thereís one thing thatís lauded in the internet age,
itís if I want to be applauded I donít need to go on stage.
I could write shit in my bedroom, gathering tweets and shares and likes,
but despite it I still head to gatherings known as open mics.
Because fuck it, our creations need a community
and luck is preparation meeting opportunity,
so when Coldplay or Weird Al Yankovic come to town
and every good opening act mysteriously comes down
with a synthetic disease to which I have immunity,
Iíll be ready to please, dropping rhymes with impunity.
ĎCause Iím a Master of Rhyme;
Iíve got a Masters degree
and my thesis was a rhyming dictionary,
so Iíll be rapping my rants
and youíll be clapping your hands
and flapping your panties
that you happily planned
to throw at fabulous bands
and Iíll be nabbing their fans
while they are crapping their pants
In real life Iím a hacker and Iím super science knowledge-y:
linguistics and mathematics and some microbiology
but I admit that in the latter I have lax methodology,
and for that I say no matter; I present my apology:
if your bladder had a splatter, donít be mad; I tried urology.
So back to the point ó my plan is all about practice.
The knack to seem much better than any surviving opening act is.
And that may sound unfettered and conniving but the fact is
they lack my well-honed stagecraft and immunoglobulin factors.
perfecting my art
and projecting my heart
While collecting the hard-earned
affection thatís marred
by those correctly called ďartistsĒ
rejecting my protective injection,
electing collective infection ó ejecting a shart.
And maybe Iím a chump whoís not much better than you,
but Iíll be number one while youíre going number two.
I digress; Iím an open mic nerd; I require us
to weary of hearing Free Bird, Miley Cyrus.
When merely a chord or a word can rewire us
and everyoneís here to be heard and inspire us
then Iíll engineer a deferred norovirus.
So now you understand why Iím facing my fears.
Iím bracing to be panned while embracing my peers
so Iíve no stage fright when the big stars are here.
Thereíll be no cage fight, the choice will be clear,
because I write each night I can guarantee ya
that my shiteís not trite, or second tier,
and the lightís so bright I can barely see ya,
and Iíll be the only artist without diarrhoea.
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