Sweat poured from every single pore on his body. Drenching his tight, black clothing and dripping off the edges of his long black hair. The stage had to be a million degrees, or so he thought. Thousands of fans screamed, reaching a pitch so deafening, everything seemed to go numb. Gerard turned his back to the audience observing the other band members. Bob, so involved with his endless drumming, did not look back. His blonde hair dripping much like the observer. Mikey and Ray were simultaneously body banging to the beat screaming from the amps and microphones. And then there was Frankie, a stupid grin plastered on his face. His hazel eyes sparkling like every star in the sky. Eye contact. Gerards heart flipped in his chest as he turned back to the audience.
Mama, we all go to hell. Mama, we all go to hell. Im writing this letter and wishing you well, Mama we all go to hell.
The addictive beat of the song gripped his body and tossed it around like a rag doll, no


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