Some claim you played to the gods on that night
Some older folk warned you were devils
I know you played with immortal might
(My Sony's at Richter-Scale level)
What a monster, primal and primitive sound!
My chair ain't electo-shock proof
Vibrating the floor and shaking the ground
and blowing my brains through the roof!
Strutting and sneering, it's bad-boy St. Mick,
mocking and shocking tradition
Keith's chugging cords and earth-quaking licks
bludgeon me into submission
Those Liverpool lads are way too polite
Your music MURDERS my troubles
'Penny Lane'? Uh-uh! You wanna' pick FIGHTS!
and BLAST those bad-blues into rubble...
***'Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out!'...The Rolling Stones Live at Madison Square Garden...November - 1969