“Good evenin’, folks. We’re the Grateful Dead. We play rockyroll music.”
OR
The Dead’s career can also be read as three men’s desperate struggle to not have the least expensive guitar.
“Mine needs two cords, man.”
“Yeah, Jer. I see that. Nifty. But, uh mine has a motorized pickup that goes back and forth. And fancy crap on the fretboard.”
“LOOK UPON MY KNOBS AND DESPAIR, WIENERS!”
OR
That should have been the line in the poem.
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;
Look upon my works, you wieners, and despair!
Much better.
OR
When was the last time you called someone a wiener? Probably been too long. Try it; you’ll left-foot a fucker. No one’s expecting to be called a wiener in 2019.
You have veered off-topic.
It was more of a drift than a veer.
Either way.
Phil’s rage is Garcia’s amusement.