Bad Band

Apple faced with fringe
the boy began to sing
twinkling notes
from vague folk roots
and
heavy drums
perched behind mock freight boots
a gathering of kids
so tweed and so chic
a-crowd-a-came-a-mooching
in a record shop this week

Outside
cold winds howled
blew away false sunshine
the logo’d windows darkened
turned themselves
to mirrored shrines
to the new heroes
stood up front
with a horror sleeveless look
my eyes began to wander
in and out of books
and between CD covers
my attention was not held
by the rhythms delivered

So-sing-a-song-of-substance-boy
because today I lost my job
and you look at me
like you know the blues
but your heart don’t seem to sob
the only-thing-a beating
is your ego as it swells
and from the look up there in your eye
I’d say you're just tripping out
on the thought of single sales
but bandwagons kid
you know they come and go
It’s what goes down in history
what the test of time will show
answers to my questions now
that I can’t help but ask
and standing here I feel you're failing
with this self assembled task
your tattoos begin to look like gossip threads
a smirk scrawled upon your face
body robed in fashion spreads
but i’m-a bored here standing squire
waiting in my shoes
it’s that same conveyor belt feeling you get
when queuing up in queues
your scheduled sounds of programming
won’t become my breaking news

So-sing-a-song-of-substance-kid
an get it off your chest
cuz-like-a John i’m screaming
“GIMME SOME TRUTH!”
an right now
you just sound like all the rest