Rock and roll doesn’t need statues. It’s alive.
Like Willie Nile.
It’s in the pavement. The cracks in the wall in a sweaty club. When the singer testifies.
It’s no museum piece.
What goods a statue at the end of the world?
It’s in the air.
It’s in your walk.
How you talk.
How you get back up.
Every time.
I like that old Simpsons joke — End of the world. Half the folk run to the church, Half to the pub.
Or Young Guns: “I will finish the game.”
I will finish the game.
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
