Verse 1:
Introducing what you thought,
Just could not be,
While sitting in a traffic jam,
At a quarter past three,
In the passenger seat beside you,
Your phone starts to ring,
The caller says put on the news,
You won't believe this thing.
Chorus:
In shocking headlines on this day,
Pop music has fallen and rock is making it's way,
Back to the top with the guitar rhythms,
And something to say,
Come join the party,
There'll be boy-bands to fry.
Verse 2:
Driving on after the traffic jam,
There's broken records all around,
While others go from high in the charts,
To bargain bins for a pound,
Rounding up teenyboppers,
Who try to stand their ground,
We strap them to chairs,
And force-feed them our sound.
Verse 3:
Three-chord wonders,
Turn the volume up high,
While those smiling dancing fakers,
Mime a goodbye,
Look up above,
There's fireworks in the sky,
Then look in front of you,
As parents scowl "my oh my".