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*****
You watch them through the fence, through the flowers,
Listen to their voices and strings.
The ceili band is playing without you;
Some in the crowd are whirling in rings.
They cannot hear your drum,
Or your alto harmonizing;
You're playing on the outside looking in.
You're in this pub, and staffing the table,
Selling albums all through the show.
You've known this Celtic lineup for years now;
You all shared sessions not six months ago.
But now they're managed stars,
While you face one more blind alley,
And you're singing on the outside looking in.
You speak to bands, and venue directors,
Seeking friends to help make a plan;
You turn to folks on websites and labels,
But none of these will lend you a hand.
They claim they've not a clue,
But you know damn well they're lying
To keep you on the outside looking in.
Dead ends clog your maze, and blind alleys;
Roadblocks chill your heart into stone.
So many gifts you bring for the sharing,
But not a soul will toss you a bone.
Songs and words pour through you,
And who but you will hear them
When you're stuck on the outside looking in?
So pack your gear and head for the station;
Grab the switch, and hijack your train.
Remember that today is the future;
Don't settle for what crumbs might remain.
Commandeer your map, and retrace it as it suits you,
So you're no more on the outside looking in.
Commandeer your map, and redraw it to your liking,
So you're no more on the outside looking in.
You're no more on the outside looking in.
Commandeer your map, and redraw it to your liking.
You're no more on the outside looking in.
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