Nothing less than angels

Begin quietly with a gum-speckled hardwood floor, breeze catching black curtain lightly while the gods of the evening prepare. Come the early evening, patrons shuffle in excited, verbose, eccentric, emo, spritely, matter-rich, tight, pants...rockers all. The first offering of the evening is well...expected, received thankfully yet everyone is perhaps glad it's over. Brothers astounds, delights, impresses and will have a hard time explaining what the ink used to mean to their grandchildren. Then in the lull...bodies shuffle forward, jockey for position, awaiting, knowing. Green, chains, in the dead march, ready to mosh with the living...and they do in the wars of the future! The speakers flare their nostrils and proclaim the sounds of the most magnificent screaming rock to grace the basement stage...CROWS!! Madness ensues as girls, boys, men and women join in a frenzy that throws off the chains of society to the primal excitement of simply letting oneself become uninhibited. Finally the throng pays homage to the movement of time and change of scene. They are energetic, yet know that their allegiance lies mostly elsewhere. What a bunch of fools we lovers are.