The thick tension wading in the air,
Balancing on impatient heads.
A buzzing murmur is growing behind the lingering haze,
Laced with anticipatory laughs.
The floor is littered with trash,
Worn from hundreds of years of beating shoes,
Stained mercilessly from sweaty bodies and spilt beer,
And they shift from foot to foot.
It’s too dark to distinguish faces;
Fuzzily scarlet hues that look side to side.
Shoulder to shoulder compacted
Together when the lights cut out.
Their systems reverberate to the hum of the bass
And adrenaline rushes when the first kick drum hits.