"be quiet"
"Shut up!"
"turn it down..."
"Shut that off."
"Katie, please."
"Just stop it!"

I'm sick of it all,
and no, i won't drop it.
Do you know how it hurts
to be told these mean things?
I suppose that you don't
'cause i don't hear YOU sing.

The music goes in,
and I feel I could shout.
It has to find some other way to get out.
So I sing, and whether it sounds good or bad,
I don't care - 'cause I trust
That you won't make me sad.
But you do, and you sigh,
while my head hangs much lower,
I walk a bit slower,
And I feel I could cry.
I'd think, "Maybe I shouldn't
be in the choir,
try out for solos,
or shoot any higher."

No more.

Just as you refuse to hear my queer quacking,
I will block out this mad, hateful yakking.

And i'll sing anyways,
just a bit louder,
and so much prouder,
to the end of my days.

Then you'll get annoyed
and you'll tell me to stop
because I've found my voice
and I guess you have not.