On A Friday Night Poem by Theorem The Truth Serum

On a Friday night
I stand before
a drunken mess
of a crowd
Our guitars blaze in
and my loud shrieks
blend in quite well
They sound like
a drawn out 747
going directly
over the bar
but with out the rattling
The shriek ends
as the melody
of my voice enters
People look up at us
interested and puzzled
thinking how can something
so melodic be accompanied
by the voice of a cinematic demon
In the end
I got a lot of drunken requests
for my tall and slender body
but they were all unwanted proposals
by the scum of the earth