Misfortune’s Maestro

(Verse 1) There once was a maestro, grand and bold, Wielded his baton, but alas, he never quite took hold. One night under the spotlight, the crowd did gasp, A harp fell on a violinist, a tragic unclasp. (Chorus) From orchestras to railways, his luck ran thin, A trail of chaos left wherever he'd been. Every venture a fiasco, every attempt a flounder, In the world of missteps, he was the founder. (Verse 2) Tired of the baton, he sought a change of scene, To conduct trains, a new dream to preen. But fate was cruel, and history was made, The worst derailment under his brigade. (Bridge) Accusations flew, and justice took its stance, Linked him to every misstep, every failed chance. In court they stood him, decreed a fatal fate, An electric chair awaited, the crowd couldn't wait. (Chorus) From orchestras to railways, his luck ran thin, A trail of chaos left wherever he'd been. Every venture a fiasco, every attempt a flounder, In the world of missteps, he was the founder. (Verse 3) The switch was thrown, volts surged high, But he sat smiling, no tear, no cry. Twice they tried, and twice they failed, In baffling survival, he had prevailed. (Bridge 2) The crowd stood silent, the cameras stared, At the man who lived when death had dared. Confusion reigned, theories spun wild, How had he escaped, this fate so reviled? (Outro) Then he turned with a grin, as if in lecture, And spoke to the world, his final conjecture, “I guess it’s clear now, for what it’s worth— I’m simply a bad conductor, by nature and by birth.”