The drummer lays down five quick surgical strikes, the first chord spreads like napalm, pumping the bass. Scream of the 50 millimeter lead across the bridge. Fuzz you! Rock and roll is at war with the world.

You don't have to live... this way, this time. Don't have to burn, to turn -- inside out, away. Ocean rolling organ transplants. 500 watts of pain straight up. Amped right into your heart. Gotta move or explode. This anger like uncut amphetamine. Gotta move the product. Into the ether, into the street. Crank it babe, suit up. Radar screaming three o'clock. Bank and roll, you wanna dance?

Don't have to live... morituri te salutamus. Slide up my neck lay down those notes right there. That's right, sustain... then clip it hit it pull my rip cord. Don't hafta don't. Don't hafta live like love like. That.

Somewhere somehow... come down crashing: move! We need some flares here -- come back. Radio down don't need the static going in. Cross hairs lighting up the ghost in this machine. Lock and load get ready for it brace yourself. Here come the warm jets. Rushing diving coming in too steep watch out. Flashback flipping the bird the last possible second -- NOW! Here comes my girl. Strafing all your base to powder. Rock and roll backatcha baby bombs away!

And contrails up so high the wind my freak flag heading out. What you want to believe, believe with everything you got.

Live to tell about it.