Master Concert Hall of All Concert Halls
Congress Theater,
Bright lights flashing through the city,
Dancing to the rhythm,
Head-banging to the music,
Singing along to the lyrics,
Master Concert Hall to all concert halls:
They tell me you are run-down and I believe them. I have seen some plaster of your ceiling fall to the ground
and make patches everywhere.
They tell me you need to be renovated and I agree, for I have seen the bathroom stalls without doors, the sinks
missing faucets, and I had to crawl under my stall door since it wouldn’t open.
They tell me you house party-animals and I say: Yes, it is so. I have seen the empty bottles and plastic cups that
were once full of liquor roll across the floor.
They tell me you allow smokers to sneak in even though your sign says no smoking and I agree. I have held my
breath to stop the smoky air from entering my lungs.
And having answered I turn to those who criticized this theater, and I give them a glare and say:
I dare you to show me another theater filled with citizens who could care less of what it looks like,
Employees who are proud to be at their job, despite the people they serve,
Bands that enjoy coming to a broken-down theater just so they could meet, perform, and inspire their fans,
Fans that are in love with the music they listen to and party like they’re in some crazy, unrealistic movie:
Screaming,
Cheering,
Clapping,
Dancing,
Singing, singing, singing.
Dancing with his patches, like a foolish man dancing on top of an unbalanced object,
Dancing with the party-animals, as if he were their soul mate,
Dancing through the smoke perfectly, like a fireman running to save someone from the fumes,
Dancing!
Dancing so the bright lights can flash through the city, so the dancers of the rhythm have a partner, so people
can head-bang to the music, so singing along to the lyrics is twice as great, so it known as the Master
Concert Hall of all concert halls.
Bright lights flashing through the city,
Dancing to the rhythm,
Head-banging to the music,
Singing along to the lyrics,
Master Concert Hall to all concert halls:
They tell me you are run-down and I believe them. I have seen some plaster of your ceiling fall to the ground
and make patches everywhere.
They tell me you need to be renovated and I agree, for I have seen the bathroom stalls without doors, the sinks
missing faucets, and I had to crawl under my stall door since it wouldn’t open.
They tell me you house party-animals and I say: Yes, it is so. I have seen the empty bottles and plastic cups that
were once full of liquor roll across the floor.
They tell me you allow smokers to sneak in even though your sign says no smoking and I agree. I have held my
breath to stop the smoky air from entering my lungs.
And having answered I turn to those who criticized this theater, and I give them a glare and say:
I dare you to show me another theater filled with citizens who could care less of what it looks like,
Employees who are proud to be at their job, despite the people they serve,
Bands that enjoy coming to a broken-down theater just so they could meet, perform, and inspire their fans,
Fans that are in love with the music they listen to and party like they’re in some crazy, unrealistic movie:
Screaming,
Cheering,
Clapping,
Dancing,
Singing, singing, singing.
Dancing with his patches, like a foolish man dancing on top of an unbalanced object,
Dancing with the party-animals, as if he were their soul mate,
Dancing through the smoke perfectly, like a fireman running to save someone from the fumes,
Dancing!
Dancing so the bright lights can flash through the city, so the dancers of the rhythm have a partner, so people
can head-bang to the music, so singing along to the lyrics is twice as great, so it known as the Master
Concert Hall of all concert halls.