The Singer

I’m just the singer on the stage
It’s a job, but most think it’s not
Cause it’s not the factory
Or church on Sundays
Instead I’m in some parking lot
I’m waiting for an open sign
Gas station lights, it’s finally time
For a toilet that’ll flush
Here’s the key back, thank you much
I’ll slick my hair back with some stuff
So I can be the singer on the stage