Guided by beer light down moonlit streets
pockets stuffed with stale tobacco and receipts,
pariahs of the night, queens of the teen-age
attacking their youth in a drug fuelled rage
shaking their bodies 'neath schizophrenic lights
a typical night filled with hatred and fights,
the bloodlust was fun, a midnight boogie,
danger both caustic and infectiously groovy
girls all wearing dresses too small for their *****
disk jockeys playing electro-pop to please the masses -
#WAM!#
#BAM!#
#OH YEA, OH MAN!!!#
like raving corsairs they arrived; guitars lean, leather jackets sublime
o'behold the rip-roarin' Raven's Clandestine
["People ARE YOU READY?!"]
they played rock that growled in your ears
snazzy lyrics metaphorical tears,
indulging in passion, *** alcohol and heavy drugs
dismissing dire warnings with cockily executed shrugs
swaggering to blistering tunes in front of the crowds
singing songs 'Psycho-Bitch' and 'Rebel-Tastic' obnoxiously proud,
falling in love on the stage, falling in love in their beds,
adorning their wild hair with tassels and threads
blissfully ignorant they simply didn't care
wanted to do what they want, alas life ain't that fair -
the bassist met a rogue ***** contracted ***
the guitarist lost his sight, carried on playing though he couldn't see,
the drummer lost his cool and battered a fan
found high on ******* for 10 years locked away more than
and the lead singer, with his hip swagger 'n jive,
suffered a massive stroke, upon the stage in a screeching solo he died
*[he hides his sinister within songs
died gazing at scantily-clad chicks in fluorescent thongs]*
promising to be legends they rocked the 1970's ambiguous nation
alas their substance abuse and ****** desires had already cursed them to damnation.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
Guided by beer light down moonlit streets
pockets stuffed with stale tobacco and receipts,
pariahs of the night, queens of the teen-age
attacking their youth in a drug fuelled rage
shaking their bodies 'neath schizophrenic lights
a typical night filled with hatred and fights,
the bloodlust was fun, a midnight boogie,
danger both caustic and infectiously groovy
girls all wearing dresses too small for their *****
disk jockeys playing electro-pop to please the masses -
#WAM!#
#BAM!#
#OH YEA, OH MAN!!!#
like raving corsairs they arrived; guitars lean, leather jackets sublime
o'behold the rip-roarin' Raven's Clandestine
["People ARE YOU READY?!"]
they played rock that growled in your ears
snazzy lyrics metaphorical tears,
indulging in passion, *** alcohol and heavy drugs
dismissing dire warnings with cockily executed shrugs
swaggering to blistering tunes in front of the crowds
singing songs 'Psycho-Bitch' and 'Rebel-Tastic' obnoxiously proud,
falling in love on the stage, falling in love in their beds,
adorning their wild hair with tassels and threads
blissfully ignorant they simply didn't care
wanted to do what they want, alas life ain't that fair -
the bassist met a rogue ***** contracted ***
the guitarist lost his sight, carried on playing though he couldn't see,
the drummer lost his cool and battered a fan
found high on ******* for 10 years locked away more than
and the lead singer, with his hip swagger 'n jive,
suffered a massive stroke, upon the stage in a screeching solo he died
*[he hides his sinister within songs
died gazing at scantily-clad chicks in fluorescent thongs]*
promising to be legends they rocked the 1970's ambiguous nation
alas their substance abuse and ****** desires had already cursed them to damnation.
Request permission to use this poem