Band Bus

It's so loud. I can't hear myself but I hear every idiotic thought the people around me are having. It doesn't help when the one side of your Zune's ear bud is broken. It is easy to turn in all the way up on the loudest songs I have; but, it will never help block out all the sophomoric screams around me.
I could put on a song, that makes me sad and stare out the window at the blurs of brick houses and domestic trees. Half of the leaves are red at this point, or dead. People are staring, but hey, that's a lot better then them screaming about things they don't know a thing about. Plus, stares are much more quiet.
it's funny with these kids. They laugh all day and night about sex and anatomy, but the one moment I could speak up and tell them how it is, they get shocked or disgusted.
Really. It's funny in a way.
Now starts a drummer on the back of my seat. They are simply the worst to be on a bus with. Beating on the grey plastic seat which pretend to be leather. It transforms from a seat to a drum. Three hours to their drum off. I'd fancy they practise on each other's thick skulls rather then give me a horrible back massage.
Not far from the school, but the noice persists. We pass a neighborhood I use to know. A guy I use to love lived there. I'd walk to his house and we would linger under his cherry tree while his girlfriend was at band camp.
Now I'm the one in the uniform and their graduated. She's away at college and he's just messing up his life.
Really. It's funny in a way.
I suppose there is a reason why these people are in band and not chrous, since they all sing so off key. I'm not one to talk, being tone deaf. However, I listen to my Zune silently as I stare out the window. Attempting to sing Amy Lee's parts in Broken would just be mean.
We pass a hotel and I blush a little, thinking of a guy on this bus with the same last name. It's pathetic, really. He's younger then me and I can't even admit I like him. Mostly since he's a bit of a man-whore and I think talks to me out of pity.
Really. It's funny in a way.
Stuck in traffic. Rush hour? The band festival? I'm not too sure.
But I wish I had a book. When I'm depressed, I tend to read a lot. The signs will have to do.
PNC Bank.
Brass Rail.
Curl up and Dye.
Sounds good to me.
And of course, we pass a resterant which smells like bacon so everyone must scream bacon. Like anybosy doesn't know the smell of pork product.
God. I look awful.
White band pants are the worst. They make people look like a flat out goober. So much so, I had to put on my jacket. What's the point though. My hair's a mess and I have no make up on. The boy named after the hotel will never notice me, I'm a joke, and I can barely play the trumpet.
They're all singing the same song now. I don't sing, I was told never to let anyone sing it again after one person graduated. No one cares what I have to say, even though I'm the only Senior.
Really. It's funny in a way.
The bus is shaking and everyon's standing. I guess we're here.
It's all funny in a way.
But I'm not laughing.