Crusin’ down the road it’s a saturday night
With the lights of a truck gonna blind your sight
Gotta keep going got places to go
Get down to Las Vegas and play the show

Three hours long hours we’re losing the jive
The power of your drummer not by your side
Bassist getting spacey and runnin’ too hot
Better cool down fast before he starts to rot

Here comes the mega hero that we all know
Extra ounce of energy c’mon lets go
Gonna keep the dancers dancin’ all night long
With him around we will come’ on strong


For he’s a smooth talkin’
Good rockin’ hell of a man
He’s a good rockin’
Smooth talkin’ hell of a man
Gonna rock you good
You know he should
For hes good trustin’
Soul bustin’
Rock an’ rollin’ Stan



Well its Sunday morning and we’re movin’ slow
Drivin’ back to Reno with our stuff in tow
The Car didn’t make it, but it put up a fight
Got us to shows in the nick of time

Ball bustin’ mega rustin’ automobile
Seen too much and with the cops right on our heel
Smoke in the engine we won’t be around
Cause we drove the car straight into the ground

But, here comes the mega hero that we all know
An extra ounce of energy c’mon lets go
Gonna keep on movin’ and groovin’ all night
With him around it’s gonna be outta sight!

he’s a smooth talkin’
Good rockin’ hell of a man
He’s a good rockin’
Smooth talkin’ hell of a man
Gonna rock you good
You know he should
For hes good trustin’
Soul bustin’
Rock an’ rollin’ Stan

GONGZ (the monologue:)

Anthems for a New Dawn
Overture:
Time’s arrow marches forward. Never ceasing, never slowing, never speeding. Moving at a constant pace without regard to anything or anybody. So what if one’s actions lead to consequences. Good and evil is a grey line. Undefined. What one man’s good is another man’s evil. You cannot please everyone. So focus on yourself. What makes you happy?
Nothing. Time does not care what makes me happy. Nobody cares what makes me happy. Perhaps some people do, but that matters not as well. It is ultimately up to me to decide how I feel about things, so I have chosen to be numb. Distant. Lonely. And I am good with that.
You are a danger to others. You are guilty. You have been sentenced to protect others from yourself. Asking for help is obsolete, for you will only show others the deamons that lie within you. Nobody wants to see the truth. They all want to escape from it. Music, television, movies, art in general, have no purpose but to escape from the real world. Don’t create art that tells people what to think. Create art to stop people from thinking in the first place. One Man Democracy. I Gotta Know. People do not take kindly toward being told what to do and how to think. Give us fluff. Dirty laundry. Bullshit. That’s what sells.
He was right. Except I believe in using music as an agenda. I want to tell people what to do and how to think. I do not care if they hate me or love me for it. I just want them to have an opinion. Any publicity is good publicity. It worked for Trump. It worked for #metoo. People use the arts to get across their ideas about reality. About what’s right and wrong with the world. In the back of their minds however, they know it is not that simple. There is no such thing as right and wrong. The concept is but an undefined line. 1/0, etc.

Chapter 1- Discovery of THE Dead Man: Denial
I am alone in my apartment. Sleeping. An empty glass that used to contain whiskey on the rocks on my bedside next to a glass of water. The time approaches 5 am. I’ve only been asleep for two hours because I am a night owl. I always have my cell phone in do not disturb mode, so I never received the calls for help. Terrifying calls and voicemail awaited for me as I arose from my bed circa 9 am. I do not do well with crying. A grown woman sobbed on the other side of the line, and that gave me reason to get up from the comfort of my bed, which was something I usually let the thought of a pleasant morning cup of coffee do. A break from routine. I needed that. Variety is the spice of life. I made my morning cup of coffee anyway before going to my agitated friends who were gathering in the house across the street. I had nothing to say that hadn’t already been said or thought already. All quite futile indeed. However, eerie silence in company still elicits feelings of a warm embrace. Perhaps it because no words were spoken and instead, only hugs were exchanged. After exchanging warm embraces with the ten friends of mine, my shirt became stained with tears from everyone sobbing on my shoulders, mixing in with the sweat caused by the tension trapped in the room. Perhaps this is what claustrophobia feels like.
I looked at all the faces in the room and watched as more of my friends entered meekly into the house. Some were clueless, some were solemn, and were in the process for breaking down whilst others were already broken. Most of them were going to take the day off, few people, such as myself, were planning on continuing on with our lives. Time's arrow marches forward. Never ceasing, never slowing, never speeding. Moving at a constant pace without regard to anything or anybody. There is always work to be done.
Sitting diagonally from me, I saw a man who had kept his composure for as long as I had been there excuse himself and brush his teeth. It was still rather early in the morning. The shock of the news makes people forget their routines. I thought I was doing pretty well as I had already brushed teeth and made my coffee as usual. Time’s arrow marches forward. The man appeared to be falling behind time, as his routine had gotten thrown off. I decided to check on him. A large rectangular mirror loomed over the sink where he brushed his teeth. Noticing my reflection in his peripheral vision, the man quickly switched his brief gaze to himself, and he too, broke down. I maintain my composure. I looked into the scene that played before me in the mirror. A Broken man, attempting to catch up with time’s arrow, with ugly tears and a red face. The man lost control, but I had not. I then looked at myself, and saw a man without feeling, stubborn, inexorable. Perhaps, a terrible person. A stranger. Yet, all I saw of myself, is myself. The terrible person without feelings. The stranger. Me. Yet, the mirror could not reflect what was inside me. A natural disaster. Outside, the terrible person without feelings was the eye of the storm. Inside, was the full force of the storm. “Yes.” I assured myself. “I am still human.”