It's 1 AM. Black-clothed people crowd the small club, jostling and sidling closer to the stage, craning their necks to get a glimpse of the band beyond the flashing red stage lights.
"Angelspit! Angelspit! Angelspit!"
A man with ragged, scraggly hair and a torn-up pinstripe suit mounts the stage, followed by a woman with close-cropped, white-bleached hair and an outfit of 90% PVC. Tearing a mic from its holder, he grins at the crowd.
"I'm Zoog Von Rock, this is DestroyX, we are Angelspit, fuck this club!"
He smashes his hands down onto a keyboard, filling the room with a distorted synth tone as DestroyX steps up to the mic.
"My friends used to show off their tats -
Now they talk about filling their bank vaults.
Mellow is the new fad -
Your life is fucked, and it's all your fault!
You used to be dangerous and fun,
before you got that mortgage.
Killed by mediocrity, procrastination, blah blah,
now you vote Conservative.
The people of influence are cynical and jaded -
what hope for the new blood?
Habitat destruction, fate turns to
a world imploding under mass boredom
A sleeping generation can't embrace the shock:
There's nothing left to embrace.
I needed motivation: you sent a postcard
that said 'punk rock', well fuck you too."
The crowd loves it.
