it hurts to set you free, but you'll never follow me.

i tasted my own blood on stage tonight.
we played what could possibly be our last show before i leave
and we played hard, in the sweltering heat
we all felt it. sorrow, rage, happiness, loss...
but the nature of the music is such that the rage shone through
and my poor throat apparently couldn't take the abuse fully
so i stand on stage dripping sweat, rocking back and forth with the beat
i scream my soul into a microphone
taste the salt of sweat and blood
keep screaming, primal at this point
and as a band we do battle to hold the notes together, we burn against the dischord
and the chaos
and pull the universe into an angry cohesive mass
pulsing and pulling, moving us with an unexplainable energy

and like that..it's over
the salt still drips in my throat
and i feel nauseous from dehydration and exertion, both mental and physical

i scream.
i call forth all my emotion: old words, new relevance
songs written about one feeling, one girl, one moment
revitalized in the pain of new trauma.

over the speakers comes the doors, the end.
this is the end, beautiful friend.
fitting and enough to well tears.