Hot, steamy, crowded.
Bodies pulsing, swaying, grinding,
Jumping to the music.
Hands everywhere, clothes coming off.
Can't take the heat, take something off.
Buning sensations, senses going wild.
And this is before they begin to play.
The lights go down, the black cloth rises.
The crowd drives foward.
Surfers overhead.
Silence from the speakers.
Hell from the crowd.
Drumsticks sound off.
Briefly a hush.
Then Hell broke loose,
When gods began to play.
Heart-rendering.
Hearing impairing.
The music flows,
Like a torrent river.
Bass is pulsing through your chest.
You feel it everywhere, even there.
Then his voices ascends the crowd.
The crowd goes wild.
You stomp out loud.
Adrenaline flowing.
Heart pumping.
Foot stomping.
Head banging.
To the music we dance.
We do our own little rituals,
As the music pounds out.
Ambrosia to the ears.
The nectar of the gods.
Then it's all over.
All that's left,
Deafened ears,
Sore muscles,
A broken rib,
Splilled beer on the floor,
Cigarette butts still burning.
Reach the car,
And go FUCKING nuts.
The best night of your life.
The coolest thing you've seen or done.
And now what's left to it?
A ticket stub, and the memory
Of being only 20 feet from a god.
The memory of going to the best thing ever.
The memory of seeing KORN rock out.
The memory of being in Jonathan Davis's presence.
One Night.
One Show.
Two Words.
Jonathan Davis.