We've got a message no one tries to hear.
Humans are still fools to believe in words
and beautifully orchestrated songs.
We are the true spirit of the material world.
We spike sound waves and thrash about,
discordant rumble and clash of chaos
a screeching metal against dulled metal.
Our grunge is only starting to whip chains.
We bong-a-gong in tethered wails and flails
reverberating louder than hollow
garbage cans now jouncing old tumbleweeds
and guitar solos over-wah-wahing.
Petrified words will perish in due time.
We grunt and sigh and GROAN and spit and g r o w l.