Back in the back of a Cadillac
Number one with a bullet I’m a power pack
Yes I am
In a bang with the gang
They gotta catch me if they want me to hang
He got his answer a few moments later, mouth still tasting of mead and roast boar as he stepped out behind the others, only to find the stillness blown wide by what were undeniably guitars and almost certainly a gravelly, accented voice roaring its love of dark colors and non-acceptance of dying quietly.
“Oh. My. God.”
Oh Jesus , Em and Wayne— no, just Em, it had to have been Em’s idea . . . Em had found a band and was hosting a rock concert. The music was definitely live, because that was not Brian Johnson growling over the airwaves. There was gravel, and guitars, but it all sounded a bit more . . . European. So a cover band and, judging by what Sigmund knew of the people gathered outside the gates, if he were placing bets, it would be on a bunch of Scandinavian guys in heavy makeup.
A band. A fucking metal band, playing a gig on the grass outside of Ásgarðr’s gates.
Speaking of bogan rock, how could I forget Australia’s biggest export thereof?
This is one of a handful of songs that appears directly in the narrative, at the point where Sigmund’s story splits off from the Em-Wayne-Hel subplot. Sadly I couldn’t use the lyrics in the book itself, because copyright. Oh well.
Everything is true, some of it’s embellished.
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