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Rock n’ Roll Shakespearean Dialogue: Golden God Monologue.

To be a god, or not to be a god—that is the question.
'Tis nobler to suffer the deaths of poisoned drummers and
diseased children, to mind the tainted, mythologized stories
of mine own reality than to abandon the ark our
music has built, and the passengers aboard it. To balter,
to scream as if enduring the beheading of a thousand
maidens—to be the one taking each head—No more. Departing 
from mine friends who still hold life, from mine music choked by fading
passion and climbing grief; hath I wanted to depart from this
vicious heartache, infinite pain, anything attached to our
legacy, thought of by no one outside of my skin to leave;
undesired by those close. I wish no more than closure. To
produce, or create; to create! Perhaps to sing. Aye. For what
songs may come new, ‘tis known that production wilt smother it. Death,
the masked figure who seems obsessed with me so; unprepared, I
be, for him if he seeks my life. I wilt make it so that he
loses interest. I wilt ready myself by releasing the
partnership with mine guitarist, 
the abrupt loss of mortality in those I
hath loved, the risk of more fatal accidents, the injury
of discontinued marriage, and the split of agreement to
birth music as a group. My last breathe wilt be heard quivering
through lyrics in our current arrangement no longer, and the
only words on display will be those of my resignation. 
I wilt be burdened no more with curses of being a god,
or set backs in my spiritual, emotional world. I
no longer crave success if failure is always meant to
greet happiness! To grunt and sweat under stage lights while the weight
of my losses sit on mine shoulders, on mine hips— in mine hair!—
art to drag me down as if nothing burdens me! No more! I
wilt travel to another region, discover a new tune
where the tone is not as heavy, not as damning. Something safe. 
Mine judgment may make me a coward, but my mind hast decided
and agreed with mine heart. All of my projects of great substance
and significance wilt be regarded outside of Zeppelin
from this day forth. No longer am I the Golden God. No more.

Posted on 25 May 2013, at 7.00pm, with 9 notes
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