The Vampire's Zombie

I don’t expect vocals so flawless they’re devoid of inflection
I don’t want three minute perfection, nor orchestral interjection.
I don’t desire techno samplings, nor cross-genre trampling.
I don’t demand dance routines I can emulate in the disco, nor millions spent on the obligatory video.
I don’t insist upon matching suit and dress, nor timed exposé in tabloid press.
I don’t care that you were larging it this weekend, that you are down with the fans, that you went to Glastonbury before you were famous, that your drum player makes your ears rupture with his thunderous pounding, that you’re releasing your CD with a commemorative DVD documenting for the world the creation of your new musical dawn, and that the I-tunes download also comes as an acoustic version to prove to me that you are not simply an empty face painted in by focus group artists with corporate brushes.
I really don’t care that you grew up on Smash Hits and Top of the Pops, that your first love was Brother Beyond or Yazz, or that her Plastic Population was your musical nirvana, forgive me if I yawn, your every word is like swimming with Piranhas: Hard to get through.
I regret that your phizog is gracing the hordes of T-shirts I see marching through the empty high streets your image, lifestyle and poetic ugliness the gospel to the allegedly disaffected youth, whose aimless, gormless, worthless travels from bus stop to off license is backed by your worthless, gormless, aimless creation. Congratulations, enjoy your three tracks worth of fame we’ll see you in about twenty years when despite the ravages of time and the aches and strain associated with shelf stacking you will reappear to darken our stereos once more brought out from moth balls to satisfy that generations demand for retro-laughs.

Now I know you don’t care but just for the sake of balance, here is what I want, and don’t worry, you don’t have to provide it, I understand it is beyond your limitations as a soulless product of a faceless conglomerate designed to steal money from retarded teens looking to someone else to satisfy their need for an identity.

I want lyrics that tear through my apathetic days like maddened Alsatians,
I demand a voice so tortured that it sounds like it has been tossed around a concentration camp like a bloody stump, or maybe even a voice of honey dripped sweetness whose every sound is like a perfect Summer's day.
I want effortless musical symbiosis that crawls into my ears and nestles in my brain for a day or two, a sound that makes my bones quiver and my heart turn itself inside out as it tries to play along with the beat on my rib cage.
I ask for nothing but honesty and everything including the truth, I hurt, you hurt, we live, we die, don't deny the beauty of darkness, embrace it knowing that the sun may not rise tomorrow and there is beauty in that unknown future.
I want words that speak of the now you are in but which still transcend time and fashion to mean to me what they meant to you without fading.
I want what you do to mean more than what you earn, but don't worry I know you wont read this... Hell nobody will, for I am just the Vampire's Zombie.