/ic/ - Artwork/Critique

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0EYoXhshco
Like a voice in the choir, that hum
And that drumbeat of life as an art-form and
Fire through the streets that keep
Moving us in silence to phantom baton sweeps,
Keep tapping to the tempo of our feet.
And all the ones who seem to fit the best
Into the chorus never notice there's a song
And the ones who seem to hear it end up tortured
By the chords when they fail to find
A way to sing along.
And when you sing the wrong thing it all starts collapsing.
Starts to ring out and feedback, starts lapsing and crashing,
On notes that don't clash
But that never quite feel like they match.
And I never quite feel like mine match.