knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
but he keeps on forgettin what he wrote down,
the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking now, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!
I'm guessing not as much as he should be getting paid.