The Crowd surges forward as one
tidal mass of flesh compressing
itself against a steel barricade.
In the front row I am happy,happily
by the weight (of the bodies and
anger and passion and screams
and the generations
I hope that my boot breaks a big nose
as I am carried (above the crowd
Through this writhing pit of black-clad Idiots,
before a stage full of sound and fury).
When they let me down and the music stops,
We'll bid our Zig-Heil's and Fuck-You's to the night
and collapse like cadavers on friends couches,
dreaming of bloody masochism
and beautiful music.
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