Hip-hop opera

The summertime heat has enveloped me. And you can stuff me in an envelope. And mail me through out the USA. To see if the rhythm of the wind was here to stay. The beat so primal; and I can not resist it. It is an encore of jazz and disco and bluegrass and R&B. Even Rock and feels like an abused mistress. The change has always been amidst. The sway has always permeated in the wind. The music for for the hopeful hopeless. The heliotropic organism of music bouncing as the sun beats down upon it. That still carries all through the night through the solar energy in the air. Like an heir on a throne you must obey the rhythm and bop your head and stomp your feet get some good food and fill your belly. Food for your soul. For we are all beasts. And slaves to rhythm only when we dance are we free. This is a hip hop opera and its sway on my brain. And what it feels to be acknowledged by the greatest. My legacy will be of Rock Vanity. Rock at its core. And Vain in its Veins. Just like me.