Inscription on the Statue of Indie Music

Not like the brazen giant of major label fame,
With denied demo tapes astride from land to land;
Here at our eclectic, varied gates shall stand
A mighty woman with dyed hair, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Outsiders. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her wild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep mainstream music, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your different, your weird,
Your disaffected masses yearning to listen freely,
The ostracized youth of your teeming shore.
Send these, the ones big record companies shun to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"