Threads of Rebellion

Verse 1: Here I dangle, swaying low, Caught in the thrum of a punk maestro. Woven threads on an eclectic dance, What twist of fate gave me this chance? Chorus: Why me, in this swirling avant-garde scene? Hugging tight on a figure, a rebel machine. Under lights where the wild notes prance, I’ve found my thread in this rhythmic expanse. Verse 2: On Western Ave, at Constellation’s door, I swing where sax and wild chords soar. Chicago breathes through saxophone cries, In Norwegian beats, our spirit flies. Bridge: Softly tiptoe then ignite the floor, With Terrie’s strums, we unleash the roar. Through improvisational turns and defiant leaps, In every note, a vivid secret keeps. Chorus: Why me, in this swirling avant-garde scene? Hugging tight on a figure, a rebel machine. Under lights where the wild notes prance, I’ve found my thread in this rhythmic expanse. Outro: From delicate threads, a legacy sewn, Here in the heart of a sound cyclone. May I never fray, nor ever fade, Capri witness to the music made.