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The DJ is awesome. The tunes are so loud. You're so glad to be here. Part of the crowd. Pill heads and piss heads. Raving along. Funky house music. The beat is the song. Playing these tunes.
*inspired by @gazplend indie rock forever. Vintage guitars cry and howl sounds that soothe my brain. My body feels the music, so I cant feel the rain. Trigger fingers are itchy, they want to jam.
Scruffy blokes. Filthy jokes. Bloodshot eyes. Slurring lies. Stinky sweat. Place a bet. Steaks and chips. Bulging hips. Grubby knees. Bums to squeeze. Drugs and pills. Alcoholic fills. Mini skirts.
Deep below, underground lair Coolest club with smoky air Come along, ten 'til late Music will intoxicate Feel the rhythm soothe your soul Percussion in a starring role Trumpet player blows his...
Little bit tipsy, ever so drunk, Listening to rock, metal and punk, Surrounded by strangers and weirdos, Guy with green hair, metellica his hero's, Bit drunk unable to stand, Listening to drummers...
Tonight at The Caramel Prince, we have lush pastoral chimes and bearded hedge-funding from Gorehorse (8.00-8.10), then we'll be introducing fresh lemonade-inducing crimehop to the stage in the form...
Last night was probably my worst shift ever. You see, in the club where I work, everyone needs to do the cloakroom once a month. Luckily I have avoided it but I was there last night.
A Parisian girl with a Yankee drawl. Cornered me in a bathroom stall. She whispered, "You lonely?". I said, "No, I'm just scared. Of the dark and what drove me. To be standing here.
I stand in the heaving room; bodies bump and push me around as if I'm a discarded rag doll.
Hello, I am Sir Mars and this is my Opuss. I thought a polite introduction was in order. I suppose I should begin with my 'nom du plume'. And the reason I am called Sir Mars.