High On Rebellion

High On Rebellion - Patti Smith Group
what i feel when i'm playing guitar is completely cold and crazy,
like idon't owe nobody nothing and it's just a test just to see how far
i can relax into the cold wave of a note.
when everything hits just right (just and right)
the note of nobility can go on forever. i never tire of the solitary E
and i trust my guitar and i don't care about anything.
sometimes i feel like i've broken through and i'm free
and i could dig into eternity into eternity
riding the wave and realm of the E.
sometimes it's useless. here i am struggling and filled with dread
afraid that i'll never squeeze enough graphite from my damaged cranium
to inspire or asphyxiate any eyes grazing
like hungry cows across the stage or page.
inside of me i'm crazy i'm just crazy. inside i must continue.
i see her, my stiff muse, jutting around round round round
like a broken speeding statue. the colonial year is dead
and the greeks too are finished. the face of alexander remains
not only solely due to sculpture but through the power and foresight
and magnetism of alexander himself.
the artist must maintain his swagger. he must he must
he must be intoxicated by ritual as well as result.
look at me i am laughing. i am laughing.
i am lapping cocaine from the hard brown palm of the bouncer.
and i trust my guitar. therefore we black out together.
therefore i would run through scum. and scum is just ahead,
ah we see it, but we just laugh. we're ascending through the hollow mountain.
we are peeking. we are laughing. we are kneeling. we are laughing.
we are radiating at last. this rebellion is just a gas
our gas a gas that we pass