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I’m on the run, my dad’s a bum, I asked my girl if she loved me and she just said — Toward the back of the club, two lanky African-American kids are dressed in the uniform of the serious hip-hop aficionado — T-shirts, baggy jeans and tilted baseball caps.
A large, athletic boy bolts across the stage and tries to tackle the singer before he’s dragged off.
Raising the microphone to a face adorned with glittery, half-smeared makeup, the singer surveys the scene before him.
He strolls across the stage holding a microphone, then grabs a noticeably drugged-out backup dancer and kisses her on the mouth.
With a childhood rough enough to guarantee him rock star success, by the time he was out of his teenage years -- at least according to the few details he's given -- Mickey Avalon had sold pot (with his…p .main-container #login input[type=text], .main-container #login input[type=password] .main-container #login input[type=text] .main-container #login input[type=password] .main-container #login div .main-container .remember-forgot .main-container .main-container .main-container #login div label .main-container button .main-container #social .main-container #social span .main-container #social span.facebook .main-container #social span.google .main-container #social span.twitter .main-container #social span.yahoo .main-container .main-container .
MA: The same things that get me in trouble are the things that make my lyrics.
He shoves her hard across the stage, and she stumbles in her heels and falls forward onto the floor, legs splayed apart in her short dress, eyes closed the whole time.
His friend, also shirtless, stands next to him, leaning out over the crowd and pouring tequila into opened mouths as if delivering a communion.