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Myself, I like big speakers keyed to max,
drums pounding like the hooves of Luzifer
sledge-hammering the earth, creating cracks
in mountains, damn the meekly thurifer.

Stairway to Heaven and Highway to Hell
are not an opposite but work both ways:
both destinations have their homing bell
Speed, Metal Brothers, lets all Towers raze.

One shall not mix good grapes with solid grain
but sometimes I`ll end dressed up to the nines
in concert halls where human voices strain
to sing some songs from an eyetalian Heinz.

The early shower-singing bugs my spouse,
my “nessun dorma” earns a “shut up, louse”.
Never sigh for a better world it`s already composed, played and told

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