Urbane Dicks
Manner maketh the Punk
As the phlegmatic pose poised
A rotten wannabe spits out vocals
In a trademark nasal sneering whine
A sham anarchy erupts as sounds clash
Bass player pogoes in time to his own beat
Monitors throb with menace and phlegm flies
Original irony lost in the mix
Generation X overtaken by Generation why
Biker leather jackets badged, ripped jeans by design
An apple a day could never keep Doc Martens away
Unruly hair coifed to perfection part of the uniform
Undertones of their antiheroes
Packaged by labels too early for nostalgia
Perspiration without inspiration
Marketing man’s dream nineties nightmare
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