I was in a bar yesterday
and asked for a postmodern-ist
there was that bold guy in the back
on stage playing a song
Didn’t know if he should have
Shut down the guitar
Tied up his tongue
out of tune as he started
to rage his voice
they left the stage
of a castrate out of force
He had probably come
for the pleasure of three peers
or maybe to pour the fame
of six beers
He had probably come
to play for fame
They’d probably gone
to piss their blend