The Studded Cinctures were a band
From gloomy Ann Arbor, Michigan
And they wrote just for you
These irrelevant tunes
And with each heart-wrenching, fictitious wail
You’d swear they sang your life in veracious details
The tears trickle down your face
Your skinny arms begin to flail
You can catch them any day of the week
At the legion hall down the street
In your unromantic town
They’re guaranteed to bring you down
And as the clumsy singer takes the stage
He whips the mic in an ardent way
And now the girls begin to blush
Never had they’ve been so terribly touched
By such an illiterate bum
O won’t you say what you mean!
Give us a moment of offering
Perhaps a pinch of your views
We love the second-rating, the repitition
And the metaphors stripped of all gall
With a handful of pomade in hair
He shoots a pitifully pouty stare
At the nurtured audience
And this is easing his conscience
Hustling and taking knee with brow in hand
He shrieks the works of another man
A standing ovation!
Vulnerable child, you’ve been taken advantage of
By such a carnivorous bum