Live music nights are always slow now
it used to be that live music night
was a riot for flesh filled with barely dressed women
hypnotically grinding against each other
on a dance floor of wet dreams
while the band filled all the available space with
deep eclectic complicated crunchy beats
with powerful juicy tasty energy
but live music nights are always slow now
crushed by commerce, crushed by those other places
with their dirty-cheap beer, dirty floors and
dirty staff. places that have killed what used to be
the best night of the week, places where
girls in too-short skirts get the clap – or worse
from sitting on the red vinyl bar stools
dirty mind and dirty soul. dirty lives
the musicians stir their drinks listlessly
remembering the good old days
even now there’s a crowd, but who wants this
screaming hip, baseball-cap wearing farmers
harassing their stunned bovine girlfriends
harassing the waitress, grabbing her ass and
screeching the off-key din that is their drinking song
slamming back cheap domestic courage.
doing the do, the musicians take the stage
hearts devoid and minds empty, another live music night
the ball caps scream, shellshocked with glazed eyes
consume as the air fills with that crazy live music sound…
endless hours later the screaming has ceased
baseball caps and lovers of hip lost in the fog of the night
and the musicians and the waitress mourn the loss
of another slice of threadbare soul they’ve sold tonight
live music nights are always slow now
empty halls full of empty eyes and empty ears
listening to empty music made by empty hearts
welcome to dead music night.