Tuesday, 9 June 2009


Your so cool
And not at all a fool
People would scream
At the latest teen idols
Flashing blazen clean
On the front covers of the magazines
Only to be rejected
By the spontainious redials
As the boy bands fans
Haud like swelling glands
Crushing with stampedes
Of trippling feet
To greet the false dawning
Of pomposity
Miming with all to well
Timed senses of perfection
As the same old spokes
of the overly oild machine
As everything seemed to gleam
With a deadly unrealistic sheen
Oh you have to be so keen
To look at me with any kind of disparatee
For in reallity we are just weeded out
Glamour rags with no personality
I mean look at this glossy magazine
And turn to page 17
For there is picture
Of me with the queen
Feeling so prestine
As his eyes would shimmer
A reflective repartee
And the family friendly feed
They would put on as armoury
To defend thee
To hide the thrift reallity
Dawning choruses of oh look at me
Don't I look good in tweed
Oh waht a perspective to have
When your downing rights
10 street thunder
And no that is not me
Blundering out of the club
Sucking upto pigs
For the sweets of what was
Once Top Of the Pops jamboree
From the clanging sounds of Jimmy Savill
To the 90's separtee
Of the two step dance moves
We repeat with irony
So come put a smile on our faces
For we are pop pickers tastes
As we are dancing along
Tony Blakburns face
With a gleam and glammour
Of the TV streams
Live audience kick and stream
With bloody mass tears
As their pop idols come fallin
Crashing out of their heavenly air!


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