Seventeen pounds heavy in the bass
Exactly ten feet from the danger sign.
Vandals had less chaos-lust than these
Ecstatic children of our mores and malls.
Now they tumble, burning, molten steel
To their molds like white-hot waterfalls,
Empty, plunging hearts too sheer to freeze
Each time the lights go on, the worlds align,
No wall of sound across one's ravaged face.