Music of the Night

There are concerts. And then there are great concerts. And then there are concerts that remind you that old music can be great. Look at how Elton plays that Piano! How the hell can Mick Jagger still move like that? Concerts that make the musicians involved feel timeless because their songs are still so relevant. Last night's family outing to see Genesis was ...
not one of those occasions.
Oh dear god. Some things really should just stop as the Millennium passes them by. For example: Tab. Or Palazzo pants. Or Phil Collins.
First they come on 40 minutes late. Then they start with these 14 minute long soft-rock synth heavy interludes. And my dad is all about this stuff, so I am singing along and trying to enjoy it. Mommie Dearest is already restless 15 minutes in. And then Phil Collins literally started telling ghost stories (complete with background graphics left over from the Invisible Touch Tour '84) and making scary faces with a flashlight, as though we were all sitting 'round a campfire.
Never have a I run so fast towards Penn Station in all my life. EEEEEP.
In other music news, has anyone heard the Pink song "Dear Mr. President"?
Note the lyrics:
Dear Mr. President,
Come take a walk with me.
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me.
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly.

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
Are you proud?

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why?

Dear Mr. President,
Were you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
How can you say
No child is left behind?
We're not dumb and we're not blind.
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell.

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye?

Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing 'bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Dear Mr. President,
You'd never take a walk with me.
Would you?