They were the outcasts. We were the Gods. And anointed by their spit and their hate and their jeers we grew until we became the world around. Their muted colors and hang-ten shirts morphed into our leather and our spikes. Their soothing 70’s tones were enveloped by our noise, choked by our words. We became the immortals and now you worship our recklessness. Look deep you cowardly humans, you scum, you filth—your hate was the fuel to our fire and now we laugh as you yearn for lives unfettered by caution, untouched by fear. Look upon us. Look upon those who were not afraid to be different. Feast on our bravery. Revel in our sound.
Jack Grisham