When songs go on too long,
When six minutes should be three –
Well, that’s when they change key.
It doesn’t pick the lock, but bludgeon it.
Nothing says you’ve run out of ideas
Crunch-changing gears by slurring-up the speed –
Won’t you spare my tears
From your pinched-throat oration,
Your goodness-me vibration to make my ears bleed ?
I wish it were an octave that you’d shifted,
Or used harmonies,
And not just drifted-up a third
For yet one more reprise.
And please, don’t start ad-libbing
Like a gibbering MC –
There’s a reason why they call this bullshit ‘scat’.
Your climax won’t excite me
By just singing out of key –
The sparkle in your tonic has gone flat.