Рет қаралды 622
In the whimsical nook, a drummer with sticks,
A rhythm quite quirky, a tale that clicks.
Auditioning for "That's What You Get," oh what a feat,
With a cape of band tees, on the drumming seat.
Fumbling through setup, cymbals a spree,
Like mischievous spirits, a wild jubilee.
Drumming to lyrics, like a bull, a dance,
Limbs flail around in a rhythmic trance.
A sidekick, the camera, on pizza boxes high,
Framing a dream that's far from the sky.
Capturing struggle, expressions, a game,
A drummer's prowess, oh what a claim.
In a battlefield of beats, a skirmish unfolds,
Snare taps like whispers, a tale it molds.
Kick drum a tripwire, but the hero persists,
Charmingly haphazard, rhythm exists.
"That's What You Get," a medley to embrace,
Challenges tackled with a smile on their face.
Raw enthusiasm, commentary self-aware,
A drummer's journey, beyond compare.
In a moment of acrobatics gone astray,
Sticks fly, cymbals crash, in a rhythmic display.
Our hero grins, chaos embraced,
A self-deprecating superhero, rhythm encased.
A drumming crescendo, a finale so grand,
Breathless but beaming, the hero takes a stand.
Pleading to join the song's whimsical quest,
Laughter, infectious, beats at their best.
The song welcomes the hero, applause in the air,
A celebration in the comments, a digital affair.
Imperfection as a superpower, a lesson profound,
In the whimsical world of rhythm, our hero is crowned.
A symbol of resilience, charm in the breeze,
Belief that quirks find their musical ease.
As the superhero takes a bow, drumsticks held high,
In the Seussian rhythm, imperfection can fly.