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