Leitmotif

Marching as the drummer
of our recklessly assembled fairy tale,
I'm off half a beat.
My charisma let it pass,
though Peter doesn't seem too fond
of this calling card percussionist
I've become.
I'm switching to the French Horn,
in too much of a hurry to chew.
But boys like him are not afraid
of stomach aches.
If you listen closely you can hear
my oboe abdomen blues.