Well, there you were, asked again, to play damned second fiddle!
Hell, recall, all along, your fitted, your fated role.
Is this some god—goading you with a cursèd life riddle?
If so, hollow answer made you feel unwhole.
Hey, recall, for way too long, your fitted, your faded role,
Standing in the wings, shadows of some stage, an understudy.
Echoed casting call left you feeling unwhole,
Player without top-billing or big title—just another somebody.
Waiting in the wings, shadows of that stage, that understudy,
Your lines well-rehearsed, you yearned to be strong, servant lead,
Instead, player denied top-billing or big title—just another somebody.
You, as people pleaser, abetted someone else to succeed.
Yes, my lines well-studied, I would be strong, servant lead,
Yet, I ever serve as trusted consigliere, loyal lieutenant.
Yes, I am a wise teacher, helping others to succeed,
Yet, I have more still to give—if I use my unique talent.
My oft serving as trusted consigliere, loyal lieutenant,
This everyday role I play, is vital, necessary.
Hey, me much to give—whole to live—if I use my unique talent.
I can achieve beyond ordinary: rather extraordinary.
This part, I alone can play, every day, to stay vital, necessary.
Is this my god, ever prompting me to solve my life’s riddle?
Bestowed with gifts, I can achieve things quite extraordinary.
Well, here I am, ready again, to sing my song, to play blessèd second fiddle!
