The Crowd surges forward as one

    tidal mass of flesh compressing

       itself against a steel barricade.

           In the front row I am happy,happily 

                                  [Crushed]

by the weight (of the bodies and

anger and passion and screams

and the generations

                and generations

                         of frustrations).

 

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.