Youth Breeds Rock n' Roll
I listened to the idea of rock n' roll pouring out of a teenagers mouth as he lept to the stage with his cock come fuck me ass. He lept and screamed and all he could express was his sex and ours. All we wanted to do, both men and women was to have sex through him somehow. Whether it be via the other girls getting so electric watching them and us knowing that we know enough to enjoy it to. We hope standing next to her that she will fuck us like she wants to fuck him. We see the anger and the rage at being young and not able to succeed. Being made to struggle because the old can't lose, and face it, they are smarter for the fact that they are winning. So we band together, we magnets of fucking. We bond and join to the moving sensation that he brings. We suck in his anything hoping we can be that cool tonight when we lay on top of her, watch her close her eyes, and know that she is imaging the rock teen in her, singing through her body.
I listened to the idea of rock n' roll coming from the mouths of an early 20's thinking renegade wanting to bleet out the drugs that were running him to the ground. He's burning and coming down to crash into the ground like a dead chested bird. We wait for it to happen in place of us. It's the risks that make us want to jump and cry and yell at them. We all feel like we are falling with him. We see the death coming through the life. We dream of the drugs seeping off of him and being licked by young girls. We feel our rock n' roll come down with him. We want to experience the crash from the first row. "Maybe tonight he'll OD on stage." We look through blurry glassed orbs of nothing wanting to experience what we
could understand but are too afraid to grasp. We take ourselves to the parking lot, throw up, draw straws to drive, remember when were innocent and drive home singing the songs that we never had.0
I listened to the idea of rock n' roll coming out of the acoustic guitar of a late 20's never-made-it. He's stabbing at his own arms with anything to keep him motivated. He's flopping around in his head like a fish wanting to breathe water but only finding air. He's finding stale piss laced smoke amongst the small crowds in dive joints lit by paper fire hanging next to 2 for 1 beer signs. His t-shirt stand is sadly flanked by a light show booth. Both are being run by a local friend. We stand and waddle back and forth hoping to have answers for our lost youth rock n' roll, our senseless wasteful early 20's rock n' roll and now are failed dreams washed ashore with the boy we used to watch when he was wild and who is now saldy sunken and standing next to us wearing his own tour t-shirt. We make it to the bar, sit down, order a "lite" beer to watch our figures and hope we can get fucked real hard like we did when we were 18 watchin his son play. When we were 24 watching the girls play. But now we're old and worried and thoughtful and Americans and car owners and music critics and shit upon shit fucking up the youth trying to simply fuck.
