My heart's not a drum
Or a machine
But clearly it beats.
The "real" drum
Is as much a machine
As the box the luddites would defeat.
But no bother--
I lost my brother,
So I play hold music.

I sit in a restaurant
And all I want
Is distraction from my life,
Next to some old fat idiot
That tree should have hit
As he pigs out with his wife.
Who really cares?
Even he's just air,
And he plays hold music.

This bridge is to make my metaphor clear:
"Hold music" is the music that you hear
While you're waiting on the phone
To disconnect your phone.

When I talk down to who's around
I know I'm being a prick.
But when I talk up
No one looks up
So who really gives a shit?
If I ain't crying
I'm still dying,
So I play hold music.

There once was a bar
That wasn't far
From the depression that I felt.
I could slide in there
Into a leather chair
And everything would melt,
Like ice cubes,
Bones, or tubes.
It was hold music.

But this bridge is for nothing at all.
This bridge lets everything just fall.
So strange we have to wait
To be released from weight.

There are many folks
Like whom I swear
I am not going out.
But the homeless guy
With open fly
Singing bad songs give me doubt.
Is that me?
Will it be
My hold music?

Play me your hold music
If you have hold music.