Definition Of A Pro - Dustin Vado
I practiced so much, I have tendonitis,
but tonight I have a gig.
I am sick as a dog, puked all night,
but tonight I have a gig.
I am light headed, can’t eat, can’t sleep, tortured by flu,
but tonight I have a gig.
I got dumped by a girl I once said I loved today,
but tonight I have a gig.
I am stranded in Lebec
with a band of children
in a ratchet van that gave out,
but we have a gig tonight in LA.
I lost my sister today- she told them to turn off the oxygen
and traded it for the still winds of new life,
but I have a gig tonight
playing for a $25 ticket.
I watched my dog die today, old and inevitable, he is no longer in pain,
no longer whining in sleepless agony,
no longer battling the biology actively murdering him,
but I have a gig tonight doing sound for punks.
The bass player passed today
walking the same path as the dog
and now I am short a mentor,
band mate,
and brother,
but I have a gig
playing to an empty room.
My heart is heavy, my soul is weak and limping,
my daily battle is just beginning
on one hour's sleep
after a life changing night with
the unpredictable, the unfathomable,
the lady of evenings and fleeting smiles
who will never understand the heart of a cube,
but I have a gig
where I can’t speak about
any of it.
Can’t cry,
can’t puke,
can’t break,
and can’t fuck up.
I take the stage with a lead sinker in my chest that scuttles me
deeper and deeper
past bubbling layers of water
into the darkest abyss
where no one can see me except an angler
with his built in headlight
and he probably wonders,
“What are you doing here?”
but tonight I have a gig.
I am sick as a dog, puked all night,
but tonight I have a gig.
I am light headed, can’t eat, can’t sleep, tortured by flu,
but tonight I have a gig.
I got dumped by a girl I once said I loved today,
but tonight I have a gig.
I am stranded in Lebec
with a band of children
in a ratchet van that gave out,
but we have a gig tonight in LA.
I lost my sister today- she told them to turn off the oxygen
and traded it for the still winds of new life,
but I have a gig tonight
playing for a $25 ticket.
I watched my dog die today, old and inevitable, he is no longer in pain,
no longer whining in sleepless agony,
no longer battling the biology actively murdering him,
but I have a gig tonight doing sound for punks.
The bass player passed today
walking the same path as the dog
and now I am short a mentor,
band mate,
and brother,
but I have a gig
playing to an empty room.
My heart is heavy, my soul is weak and limping,
my daily battle is just beginning
on one hour's sleep
after a life changing night with
the unpredictable, the unfathomable,
the lady of evenings and fleeting smiles
who will never understand the heart of a cube,
but I have a gig
where I can’t speak about
any of it.
Can’t cry,
can’t puke,
can’t break,
and can’t fuck up.
I take the stage with a lead sinker in my chest that scuttles me
deeper and deeper
past bubbling layers of water
into the darkest abyss
where no one can see me except an angler
with his built in headlight
and he probably wonders,
“What are you doing here?”
