I'm a bathroom singer.. taintaintadaan!

It’s 12 am and I’m locked in a bathroom.
I ain’t yelling for help, but weaving a song. 
Ooo ooo don’t sing with me, yeah.
I’m a babe on play mode, buttoned my heart on my sleeve.
My hair is messed up, my lipstick’s smudged.
I’m on rock and roll mode, yeah.


I don’t have a guitar or a microphone
Yet I’ve set this stage on fire.
In the mosh pit, is my reflection on the mirror
Hooting, swaying and singing along with me.
The flickering tube light brings blitz to the show.
Splash goes the percussionist.


I’m a singer, dreamer, lover, rebel out on a rage.
It’s a song from one of those photographic memories.
An old classic that is dark, groovy and trippy.
Ooo ooo oo, don’t sing with me, yeah.
I know you’re swaying to my song on the other end of the door.
But it’s an exclusive show and it must go on.


Dance, hum, sing, scream, headbang.
Quiet, There’s a knock on the door.
The concert’s over. Go home fellas.
It’s morning and I come back to this empty stage.
I’ve left behind some tunes & I can still hear them


Today is gonna be a new track.
Come over for the gig, sing along.
You don’t need to be a rockstar to be a singer.
All you need to be is a bathroom singer
On  rock and roll play mode.
Ooo oo, rock and roll, rock and roll..