Smouldering eyes, wreathed in kohl,
Glistening mouth, wreathed in smoke,
A silken voice cajoles you to silence;
Aren't you too old to be enchanted?
Sound that rocks through your very being,
Connection - the bodies swaying around you,
And your movement with them, hardly voluntary;
Forget your ideas of non-conformity.
The eyes, the mouth, the well-known voice,
Mounted on stage, an oracular vision,
If you reached out your hands, you might just touch them -
I thought you didn't believe in gods?
The pulse of your heart joins the pulse of the drums,
Your own throat vibrates in accord with the amps,
You move how the crowd dictates that you move;
Do you really think you control yourself?
Your lips are parted, your mouth is dry,
You're singing words that you don't even know,
Screaming and dancing as never before -
Surely this is Dionysian ecstasy?
Your make-up is smudged, and your hair tangled up,
You're sweating and shaking and gasping for breath,
You savour each movement, each scent, touch and sound;
Could you ever look more ravished than this?
And there on the stage is the one that you love;
At this moment you love them with all of your being -
A beautiful, toxic, idolatrous love.
Did you swear you would never belong to another?
The music, the love, like a sinuous thread,
Spreads out over the room, binding all there together
In a trembling net of near-painful pleasure -
Who do you think holds the reigns on their hands?
They do - the golden divine incarnation,
Worshipped by stage-lights and music and you.
While on stage they are monarch, rule over the room;
Your screaming and dancing is service to them.
You know that too soon, this night will be over;
You know that tomorrow, this will seem like a dream.
But then, you know that the singer is mortal;
They still hold the power of God over all.