Metal ball bearinG (9/2/93)

Below is the intro I wrote at the end of ’94 about this, but I moved it to the end. I have edited it based on a few grammar issues. I still hate crowds. I’m not as much of a fan of live concerts because of this. Ironically, I now hang with some of the people that push to the front. I have mixed feelings about that.

Metal ball bearinG (9/2/93)

Concert girls come out in droves
To see the men in sweaty clothes
On stage at arena, field, or bar,
Hoping to have sex with them in a car.

Scantily clad in leather and lace,
Some bodies are nice but not their face.
They bounce, they yell, they scream and shout.
Why can’t they all cut it out?

The noise is loud, rhythm fast;
Enjoyment found will never last,
Real world awaits only hours away.
The concert is over, but most of them stay.

Nine o’clock is here once more;
Clean, shave, and work; a bore.
Just waiting for the night to fall
To enter, again, the land of the ball.

I wrote this the morning after I went to see Jackyl in concert. I was at the club enjoying the band, and these two girls came out of nowhere trying to get closer and closer to the stage. I really have a thing about others invading a people’s personal space. Okay, I don’t like my personal space breached. Seeing how it extends about a half-a-mile, that seems a little hard to avoid. Well, these girls were getting on my nerves, and I really wanted them to stop bouncing in my face. It was annoying as hell, or at least New York on a hot day. Then I looked around and realized that these girls were like all the other ones that I would see at every concert. They underdress vying for the attention of the band members. If they didn’t get that far, they would hit on the nearest guy. Then I thought that these people might live normal lives and be corporate people, doing the nine to five grind when they aren’t doing the bump and grind. I was sick of this situation and couldn’t tolerate the Metal ball bearinG.

Default Comments (0)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Facebook Comments (0)