It’s a post-post-punk world
Music totally deconstructed
No alternative Alternative
A disco ball disruptive
Every dumb male makes music
Click, click, bleep and hop
Bedroom producers now equal
In this new world of pop
Indie kings sold guitars
To take up regular jobs
Making money on weekends
With the twiddling of knobs
Purists complain to deaf ears
Yet this was always the goal
Anyone can be making music
Even if it is without soul
So the punks both won and lost
Perhaps they were never right
Now there’s little to rebel against
And everyone gave up the fight
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