He was crying along with us;
I guess he couldn't believe that
After the years he thought about
How he "wasn't gonna make it,"
The years of playing one-man venues,
And watching no one sing along,
That he was on top of us all.
We bent with every word he said,
We swayed with passion at his voice,
We opened our ears and drank in the sound
Of a million other mouths screaming
In unison, exactly the same thing.
And we dripped liquid love for this,
Like he did on stage with his microphone.
Each drop of sweat or tear shed then
Was a piece of us given just to him.
He took it, too, and wrapped it up;
Around his fingers; and swung it
Around the stage as we adored him.
We jumped for him, all of us together,
As one body of single-minded worship.
It didn't matter then who you were,
Or what you'd done or why you were there;
It just mattered that you loved him.
Because he loved us; he sang to us;
He broke his back for us that night.
The songs he recited to us were enough
To make an entire stadium weep together.
Strangers upon strangers, united
Under the common cause of the song.
And because he loved us that night,
We died for him, for every note he knew;
Threw it back at him, louder now
Than he had ever hoped it to be.
Looking back on it, sitting straight up,
I felt myself come undone.
And as I watched the ice in my drink,
Heard nothing after hearing everything,
I knew what he meant when he cried.
And I was crying along with him.
 
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