[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Sipping espresso through a monocle glare,
Quoting French poets in the neon-lit air.
Your vinyl collection’s a museum of cool,
But the chorus is empty, just a hipster fool.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re draped in irony, vintage and vague,
Dancing in shadows to a synth-driven plague.
You’re a post-modern masterpiece, tragically chic,
But the punchline’s worn out, and the melody’s weak.
[Verse 2]
You name-drop Basquiat at the downtown bar,
While your guitar jangles like a broken-down car.
Your words are all velvet, but the substance is thin,
A pastiche of greatness you’re desperate to win.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re draped in irony, vintage and vague,
Dancing in shadows to a synth-driven plague.
You’re a post-modern masterpiece, tragically chic,
But the punchline’s worn out, and the melody’s weak.
[Bridge]
The reverb can’t hide the cracks in your pose,
A New Wave requiem for the cred you outgrew.
The crowd’s moved on to the next fleeting trend,
While you’re stranded in vinyl, pretending to mend.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re draped in irony, vintage and vague,
Dancing in shadows to a synth-driven plague.
You’re a post-modern masterpiece, tragically chic,
But the punchline’s worn out, and the melody’s weak.
[Outro]
