The brass section stops and wildly stares
While the woodwinds simply cast their glare
The guitarist gets in that last shredding lick
Never realizing that without the percussive kick
Their music loses all of it’s sensational flavor
There’s really nothing much to enjoy and savor
Not without the form given by the percussive touch
The music becomes a little shapeless as such
There’s a concentrated focus in that time giving beat
That you won’t get with everyone tapping their feet
The drummer supplies the band’s rhythmic heart beat
Giving the soloist her direction and the people from their seat
From sleigh bells to wood blocks to driving hip swiveling
It’s that percussive beat that is so completely soul revealing
