I feel you. Yes, you. Out there, in the dark, holding up your lighters and your phones and all the hope in the world. You lift me up, you give me power, you give me glory. Arms outstretched, arms welcoming the sky, arms welcoming the night, the moon, the stars and the sun again.
I feel you. You, shouting my name, shouting for more, shouting like your life depends on it. You scream the lifeblood of mercy. You scream for redemption, for all the unredeemable things we’ve done. You scream to feel again. I scream back.
And I still feel you. Waves of adoration like love lapping at the shore of the spotlight. Riotous applause and raucous cheers, all that excitement feeding on itself, a frenzy of grasping hands, desperate grabs for a piece of it, ravenous appetites and the morsel of a wink and smile.
Do you feel it? In the air, in the night wind, in the height of summer, and the sprawling year before another summer arrives?
Listen for it. Wait for it. Prepare for it.
Star-fucked vainglory.
Delusions of grandeur.
Absolute annihilation.
The very last time.
THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR
