The critics today are lauding the verse 
But poets and poems have never been worse 
They've taken out beauty and added a curse 
And art has left town 
In the back of a hearse.  
 
But, far be it from me to say that it's wrong 
To sacrifice meaning to fit a new song 
To putrify purity for a rhythm that's strong 
Because I can't end this 
No matter how long 
I try.