The ache of muscles and the broken calluses on finger tips- That's a guitarists unseen badge, our self ordained authority, no red tape but crimson blood rising to the surface. We are all here because we get it. We have an itch in the deepest part of us. Music provoked the outbreak and music is the cure, if we could only get enough. We all are the next number one, the reincarnation of our hero's and if we can be anything like them- The incarnation of what spawned every bead of sweat rolling off those great philosophers and performers before the masses. The fear, the trust in self, the love and the love of hating a love we cant quite hold. To each of us the stage is waiting. For ourselves we must chase our hearts to the home melody gives. These days are coming if you see they're already here.