Gig Crowd Shining beams reflect the seams of my seemingless self, the crowd is found wanting, pulsating as one in a many flow money flood. phoo, who has what arm, there is the front can't, but i reach and can't reach. Studded boots clamp down clumped short. Sure the sweat air is muggy, but we all want to be seen. She and He clog each strong string... singing 'Pere Noel' as an encore, and i'm sore from so much jumping, feet just broke and there they go. Squashed and unseen, peering through the forest calves at the tired eyes, dripping black and sticky floors. It's just an ending set, beginning, but the fans in front are pushing, prodding, kicking, Soles solely seeking out a spot to rest the weary studs. We the crippled few stock up, crack. The backs have clicked and muscles still sore are whispering "leave" Though, I yearn for more. More, tones of tenacity and tankus chords, sweet dancers upon the wedge calling bingo numbers in faux despair. Jujubees thrown for the tall to grasp, and none for the ground. Great, it's all groovy, and i cannot grumble, for all the air resounds with vibes a stunning velocity that contradicts and corrupts, yet spins the silly string into the bulbs- breaking yet another amp. It's all an act, avidly watched by beaming innocence, vanquished ladies and gentlemen doffing their hats in the street at strangers.
