He stood on up to the stage – a behemoth individual all of its own, prone to ludicrous mishaps and he’d need to beware
With his mind on his fine, fine lyrics, each one just as important as the last – this would have to be incredibly instrumental, downright fantastical for its concentrated awareness alone
Snared ’til these beautiful bodies preposterously bend and writhe to his every single willing being, ten thousand keen eyes out on haphazardously drug-encrusted rent
As keen as they do prepare themselves to delve, like peculiar crazy
The taste outright magical, soon as these words do begin to break the margin – outlandish barrier – between bystanders and wholehearted partakers
And to think, he forsaked it all for something a little less constrained
When his genius Rock ‘N’ Roll brain opted upon taming itself – and now the only ever delving he does is inside of this clapped-out caravan – debunked and narrow-existenced – where his funk will continue to be outrageously smoke-infused
Oh the unrestrained abuse – mental more so than anything else, perchance might he have subconsciously asked for this
Probably
If Carlsberg did rock musicians