Limb mates leery of tertiary emancipation; Leeks foresworn.

Where's Queen? Where's Rolling Stones? Where's Sex Pistols?

Jonny's being incomplete!

The exposition is made. The introspection shall begin.

To err is human.

To put the individual's blame on a cliche is cowardly.

To coldly classify these great spontaneous acts of expression into numbers and letters detracts from the actual experience of hearing the primal instinct of the drums pounding into your feet; the wailing of the guitar screaming out the melody of what you're feeling; the vibration of the bass in your heart willing you to move; the vocalist singing what you cannot.

The introspection has finished. The conclusion will follow.

Please excuse the ramblings of an angry young man.