by Nick Gisburne
Too tense, too torn, to tell you how I feel
To see the strange, the new, replace the old
The black, the blue, the silver and the steel
The powdered paints, the shades of red and gold
My life, my quiet, ordinary past
Is hidden from the little girl I grew
We enter the arena, daunting, vast
A mother, nervous, terrified, and you
Remember, in the morning’s muddled haze
To splash your love, your laughter, on my face
Find wonder in the night, but use the days
To treasure all the memories you chase
Immortalise the music, and the band
But know that I was there, to hold your hand
