Welcome! A Cheer!
A fresh set of meat
For those who watch they each compete
for victory, they subjugate
their honour, self, to whim of fate
From audiences far and wide
Fickle, dumb, yet they decide
Fresh honour they have won
Their Target – Number One
We all shall hear
This insipid tone to hold so dear
While fresh of face, not fresh – nor art –
These dullèd melodies depart
A chart topper, predefined
So churns the system much maligned
Is so, where is the fun?
Of Target Number One
The rise, and rise!
From top to top
Who’d dare deride this processed pop?!
Such youth, such smile, such deviance
So mask contracted obedience
For dare they step aside of path
The threat; the fear; the aftermath
For whom the masses shun
Target Number One
Huzzah! A Cheer!
A bar set so low
How could one trip or stifle flow?
A merry cause for merry men
While other’s; indignant – and then!
A righteous turn around (of sorts)
When trickery, debunked, divorced
from flavour of the month
To Target – Number One