The morning sun made an entrance through the window with a snail's pace as it bathed a passed out Damien in it's golden light. He had fell asleep the night before giving a song last looks and practicing just a bit longer. He needed to knock it out of the park at the diner if he wanted to attract anyone. Damien had been listening to songs for weeks to try and figure out what could carry his voice the best and grab the hearts of whoever he was looking for. He settled on a Panic song. A recent one actually. He'd cover the shit out of it. [i]This is Gospel, for the fallen ones...[/i]

The sun finally started to warm up Damien. His eyes cracked open a bit, not quite awake, despite the alarm that had been going off for three hours since 9 a.m. His dreary eyes looked up to the sun, and upon meeting it the poor guys snapped awake and fell out of his chair. "I'M FUCKING BLIND! AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" He yelled, rolling over several strewn clothes and a hanger. It took him a full five minutes to understand where he was and what was going on, which compelled him to look at the clock. 12:00 P.M. "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit." He chanted, jumping out of the floor.

He had 7 hours to get ready and go through the song a few more times. I mean, he couldn't do it the exact way the song is, that's almost a rip off of intellectual and musical property. He HAD to put HIS stamp on it. His voice desired a more darker version of the song, despite happier notes on some of the verses. 

Damien shoved a leg in a pair of torn shorts and shoved his torso in a shirt and ragged vest. He looked somewhat like a hot mess. (Let's face it, he needs a chick to tell him he looks like a dork.) He didn't bother with shoes at the moment and went back to his laptop and turned his recording software on and went to work analyzing himself and thinking. His heart wanted to explode into a million pieces of razor sharp shrapnel and cut him up from the inside. He was nervous. The owner of the diner gave him a look when he signed up a month ago, that look that said "Not for sure what YOU of all people are gonna do, but okay kid."

Damien resigned himself to that feeling and let it work it's way down to his toes. It was a good thing to have a strong emotion when singing, it changed your voice in a certain way. Damien looks around his room at various poster of singers he had felt something from: Gerard Way, Lacey Sturm, Adam Young, John Cooper, Brendan Urie. He lingered particularly on Gerard and Lacey, they were the most powerful people he had ever heard. Two way different people, but dear fuck [i]that sound.[/i] He could only really describe it as listening to a harp made of your own heart.

His dad made a noise outside in the hallway, probably something to do with "Get a life, Damien."

"Truth be told I never was yours."