Two guitarists strum a simple intro.

I can’t remember anything.
Can’t tell if this is true or dream.
Deep down inside I feel the scream.
This terrible silence stops me.

The singer’s voice is emotionless.
He closes his eyes and plucks power chords.

Now that the war is through with me
on waking up I can now see
that there’s not much left in me.
Nothing is real but pain and now.

The guitars growl:
loud, menacing, aggressive.

Hold my breath as I wish for death.
Oh please god wake me.

The distortion fades.
A spotlight illuminates the lead guitarist
as he rolls through the solo:
calm, relaxed, confident.
The clean guitar falls away, and the distortion returns.

Now the world is gone I’m just one.
Please god help me.
Hold my breath as I wish for death.
Oh please god help me.

The words hang in the air,
captured by the microphone.
The band jams,
their chords almost unintelligibly distorted.
They finish, sustaining the last note.
The stage goes black.

Flames spew from jets—the only light source—
as the music returns:
faster, louder, angrier than before.
The bass spits out rapid staccato beats
like bursts from a machine gun.

Darkness
imprisoning me.
All that I see
absolute horror.
I cannot live
I cannot die.
Dragging my soul
fighting my only cell.

The singer spins away from the mike,
and the rapid-fire chords continue.

Landmine
has taken my sight
taken my speech
taken my hearing
taken my arms
taken my legs
taken my soul
left me with life in hell.

The staccato beats rage.
The band improvises,
spiraling up through the scales.
Their fingers move with impossible speed.
Everything is there—
the rhythm, the sound,
the raw, unstoppable power
of the music.