Because desperation isn't a bug in the amateur's system. It's the operating system. It's the fuel that burns messy and bright, that ruins sleep and produces miracles and disasters in equal measure.
Until next time.
In the dimly lit rehearsal space, they gathered with hopeful eyes, A motley crew of misfits, united by their lack of surprise, That they weren't quite good enough, that their skills were yet to shine, But still they practiced, driven by a passion that was divine.
Their leader, a well-meaning but tone-deaf soul, Led the charge with gusto, though his pitch was far from whole, He warbled and he wailed, a sound that made them all cringe, Yet still they sang along, their enthusiasm a stubborn fringe.
Because desperation isn't a bug in the amateur's system. It's the operating system. It's the fuel that burns messy and bright, that ruins sleep and produces miracles and disasters in equal measure.
Until next time.
In the dimly lit rehearsal space, they gathered with hopeful eyes, A motley crew of misfits, united by their lack of surprise, That they weren't quite good enough, that their skills were yet to shine, But still they practiced, driven by a passion that was divine.
Their leader, a well-meaning but tone-deaf soul, Led the charge with gusto, though his pitch was far from whole, He warbled and he wailed, a sound that made them all cringe, Yet still they sang along, their enthusiasm a stubborn fringe.