By Akilika Q
We've heard the song too much today;
It's clearly victim of overplay.
As we clutch our ears and bang our heads
Against the walls 'till they turn red
We say, "We've heard this song twelve times!
That stupid tune! Those corny lines!"
And yet the song is played once more;
We all go running to the door
And dart out to the side of the street;
A man sits there, tapping his feet
To the tune of the song, that awful piece!
We run and pray for some release
But it's everywhere, that horrid song;
Ninety-Eight Rock, D.C. One-Oh-One,
It floods MTV, fills Borders' shelves;
"Oh, no," we say, "this must be hell!"
How could this party go so wrong
Because of that stupid, overplayed song?!"
"Help us!" we cry, our voices as one,
"Get another song played; this isn't fun!"
And yet it's played over again;
It's driving all of us insane!
Again, again; always there's more!
The only music in the CD store.
Forty years later, we sit in our cars
And think, "Ah, I don't think there are any more scars
Of that horrible song, which we constantly heard
It's over! At last, it's already occurred!"
We turn the knobs, put oldies on,
And hear that horrid, horrid song!