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Urbane Dicks

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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