The radio plays on and on
Reminding me of clichéd love songs
Teen heartthrobs and primadonnas
Singing “Lets live tonight! Do you really wanna?”

Common lyrics, overused.
Hackneyed tunes and banal swoons
Mooning about broken hearts
Empty promises and scars:
Apparently inflicted by some
Twelve year old who refused to succumb
To her eternal lover’s charm
But six years later is utterly disarmed
By that same lover’s smile, now thoroughly transformed
Inexplicably and inevitably he is now a superstar
Driving around in an ostentatious car.

Still more irksome is the love
That springs up unbidden at first glance
Listening to these songs I have ascertained
That one good look is just enough
To send one on a tumultuous run
Searching for that face comparable to the sun.

Ah, I suppose such lyrics still trump
Those demanding booty, champagne and endless fun.
I shudder to think of the connotations
Although everything is so explicit
There is hardly any room for milder interpretations
Even for somebody with an ‘appropriateness fixation’.

Then there are the songs so artsy
They seek to alter perceptions in a heartbeat.
So radicle and fresh that they are seldom understood,
But exalted and praised and called ‘undeniably good’.

Well, that doesn’t stop me from bobbing my head and singing along
Every time the radio’s turned on
And that’s why I’m as incorrigible as every song.