No idea what got into me to write this, but thought you folks would get a laugh out of it. I was just thinking, you would never see some oversensitive dork sitting on a step playing a bass guitar singing "I Gave My Love a Cherry" to some sappy chick.
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The bass lays down the groove…
The axe delivers rhythm of the tribal driving beat.
So mellow and so smooth…
It drives the mood with attitude, and penetrates with heat…
The bass dictates your move.
Romance is not its soul…
The axe releases animals upon the subdued crowd.
It makes them rock and roll…
The funky lines and thumping cords… so primal and so loud…
Sweet release is their goal.
Vibrating thunder pounds.
The bassist grinds and keeps the time… first slow and then it’s fast.
The tone is low and feeds the sound.
It holds the flow and drives the song… a remote control for ass.
The rhythm shakes the ground.
Muscular music, flex…
The bass is not the star, lead vocals, short guitar.
The tone with time connects.
Resonating, unrelenting, the heavy bass guitar…
Penetrates with sonic sex.
Sit on my amp and feel the song…
Let the beat invade your body, and bring you to your knees.
It really won’t be very long…
Before you spasm and gasp at last, the bass is bound to please.
Velvet grasp, all senses gone.
