Counting Beats
It’s sad but the Count really was good at playing drums, and when it came to drumming no one came harder than he comes. He had a history of making choices that were dumb.
His intentions were good, but good was not to come. The sun was slowly sinking and much work was left undone.
If we try to take from you the thing you love the most,
You’re willing to fight for it whatever the ultimate cost.
If we take your precious things for just an hour.
You wind up lost and helpless, desperate for power.
Believe me when I tell you he tried to do what was right, and if the task was daunting he tried with all his might. He was not afraid of losing. He was ready for the fight.
Just like the mighty Achilles always makes a last stand (hello Custer),
Struck down in battle his life slipping through his hands,
The Count had no options, there was no easy way out,
He was not running away, He was not backing out.
The red machine was creeping across the burning sky. The poet takes cover when protectors of the “truth” stop by. They want everyone to chase the dreams they provide.
They destroy anyone who says, “The good life is a lie.” That’s just what happens, to you,
that’s just what happens when all your heroes die.
foot note: Come out to see the Count play the drums. It sucks.
My Heroes Might Be.....Your Momma... or Jimi Hendrix, John Bonham, John Belushi and
John Lennon... or Salvidor Dali.
mmmm
mmmmm
mmmmmmmm
Hurricane - The Woods, N.C. May, 2007
photography - A. J. Wilson
The Count plays about
a dozen shows a year.
If you are ever in the
Woods, don’t miss the
Noise.