Paul Shakes His Head really was rocking his head onstage, plucking the steel strings as he began his performance.
He roared into the microphone, belting out his latest composition:
"In the depths of the endless sea of stars, the fires of war burn,
Ork Warships burst through the void, deafening all.
The Waaaagh! horns ring out across the heavens,
A symphony of war and music, a rock 'n' roll beat.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
Our war drums never stop.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
Our names are remembered in every corner of the system.
Our guitars are the call to war,
Every strike of the strings is a battle cry.
Our drumbeats are the order to charge,
In the clash of metal, we find our rhythm.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
Our roars tear through the silent night sky.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
Amid fire and smoke, our souls burn bright.
On this endless journey, we are not alone,
The Boyz stand shoulder to shoulder, banners waving until the very end.
Our war song crosses systems, spreading to every corner,
The glory of Gork and Mork lives forever in our music.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
Our flames burn every enemy.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
In the storm of metal, we have found freedom.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
Our legend will never end.
Waaaagh! Rock 'n' Roll,
In every corner of the universe, our spirit lives on.
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!"
Paul's guitar blared deafeningly, like war drums thundering in their ears. The rock concert grew more and more feverish. The Orks danced even more wildly, roaring at the top of their lungs with no sense of grace—or, rather, with a sense of grace uniquely Orky.
"Waaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!"
At one side of the stage, a group of Gretchin were trying to climb up, hoping to get a