Rock And Roll Is Dead, And You Are Dead With It Poem by Sergey Dobrenkov

You thought you owned the night,
But the night owns you.
A shadow dancing in a borrowed light,
A ghost in rewound time,
A ghost in fading blue.

Rock and roll is dead from the start,
And you're all dead with it.
You've never contained anything more than this emptiness.
Rock and roll is dead from the start,
And you're all dead with it.
Your eyes are blinded by passion and conceit.

The leather jackets, the ripped-up jeans,
A costume party for a false dream.
You can't resurrect what never lived,
A tombstone anthem, no love to give.

Rock and roll is inherently dead,
And you all are dead with it.
You're dancing on graves, but the music won't rise.
Only motley ribbons and smoke under neon skies.