"Go ahead and play the blues if it'll make you happy."
Expressions can be strange. Like when artists say they are gonna let their music speak for it self. What the Hell does that mean? I've never heard music speak for itself. Have you? I bet you haven't. Not until now that is, so let's all listen to what a song can have to say. (Not necessarily the original song used here. I hope you can think of the lyrics in this parody as being the retirement home standards complaint of any old forgotten has-been almost one-hit wonder, any really old as dirt and now out of use traditional and/or any all time low bankrupt studio's recording that disappeared into the basement of public knowledge and never even elevated back to muzak in a second-hand pawn shop).
Note to Swedes: Ditty = Truddelutt (eller nåt åt det hållet).

Won't be a hit in a billion years
Sucking dust in my studio's basement
Not even sold by vinyl marketers
Sometimes I'm longing for some hot rotation

Why can't the oldies stations bring me back
I would put out for any has-been emcee
So what my master tape is full of hacks
And I've grown mold so much I'm pushing daisies

I'm a ditty, pardon me
I'm a ditty and a deportee
'Make a gritty mp3
I'm a ditty, do you like me?

At best some old farts hum me in a bar
I had my fifteen minutes 1980
A mullet front man, synth and two guitars
I ain't no Stairway to Heaven baby

I'm a ditty, pardon me
I'm a ditty, writ' on LSD
I'm so shitty, O-M-G!
I'm not pretty, but please love me!
Please love me!
Please love me!

No? No? No?

Now I'm not supreme
Was sold second hand
When I came along
I got no esteem
I'm stored in a can
That's right!

And to the tweenies I do not exist
Ain't been on MTV since eighty-seven
And when they voted for an all time list
I came eight-hundred-thousand-twenty-seven

I'm a ditty, pardon me
And take pity, make a parody
Make it fit the FCC
So they'll shit thee not like me
Do you like me?
Do you like meeee?

No? Get out! Get out!!!

© Peter Andersson 2008