Verse 1 Gray drizzle falls on Camden cobblestones, I dropped the needle seeking mellow tones. But silence would have been a kinder choice, Than suffering your flat and grating voice. Chorus Oh, it’s a tragedy in minor keys, A sonic failure built to only displease. Like lukewarm tea inside an old chipped mug, I’d rather pull the stereo’s plug. Verse 2 The rhythm stumbles like a drunk on steep terrain, Production values causing my migraine. You tried to rhyme "desire" with "fire" twice, Accepting honest feedback would be nice. Verse 3 I’m trading this at Oxfam down the street, Where dusty failures and lost artists meet. Next time you book a studio in Leeds, Ignore whatever ego inside you feeds. Outro (Soft, breathy scatting) Ba-da-ba-da... Zero stars, darling. Absolutely zero. (Fade out)
