The show starts and he jumps on stage
His new guitar within his hand
The drumsticks clack – one, two, three, four
Then music plays out from his band

He belts out classics from his past
As his crowd shout and sing along
But then a fresh sound fills the stage
And he shows off all his new songs

The crowd goes wild and jumps about
But in the noise and heat, some faint
The last song that is played that night
Is his new number one – “Wet Paint”

As always after his long set
His stringed sword meets the amp and breaks
The crowds’ ears ring as they all leave
As they still hear the sound he makes

No groupies follow him backstage
And no post-gig party ensues
He’s all alone in his hotel
And goes to bed before the news