A MILLION BOY-BANDS LATER...

A MILLION BOY-BANDS LATER...
sneak

There's a boyband in my living room.
They're everywhere I look.
My neighbor, she's obsessed with them.
She screams until she pukes.
Boyzone, Westlife, Backstreet boys,
they're all the same to me.
Karoke pop stars.
Home in time for tea.
With an average age of fourteen,
they strut their funky stuff.
Pretending to be pubic.
Making out they're tough.
Tougher than white knuckles.
Harder than a bag of snails.
Don't do drugs - Do water.
Don't go off the rails.
Always do your homework.
Always comb your hair.
A rebel with a toothbrush.
You gleam as I despair.
A dance routine to die for.
One day we'll shoot you down.
Pretty boyband tossers -
aren't welcome in our town.
My neighbour will recuperate.
She's young. She just needs time.
I'll ply her with cheap alcohol.
We'll have a tortured time.
Industrial, thrash or indie.
Music made to bruise.
Tear down your boyband posters.
There is no time to lose.
As we drown beneath the fallout -
of a teenage girlie dream.
A million love songs later.
One last defiant scream.

sneak