He may seem like a regular guy
But there’s something you don’t know:
There’s a secret god of rock and roll
Inside this Average Joe.
He can make a room of peasants dance
And blow the roof off nightly
But he also has to pay the bills
To not appear unsightly.
He’s a part-time rockstar with a full-time job,
An overdriven ax and a name tag (“Bob”).
He’s bohemian, rhapsodic, and his stairway to heaven
Just happens to start at the 7/11.
So next time you go out to purchase a slurpee
Just know that the guy who you pay
Might just be the someone you blast as you’re driving,
A new-age Bon Jovi someday,
And know that berating him ‘cause your burrito
Is stale is annoying and wrong
And he’ll write down your name so when he finds fame
Your behavior will be a hit song.
The Daily Travesty 