The music’s loudly blaring. An overture it ain’t.
I swear it’s so annoying that it would rile a saint.
Repetitious cymbals and snare drums over-brushing.
I’d pay a pretty penny just to implement its hushing.
I’m sitting in a sandwich shop waiting for my plane,
waiting for this song to stop, but I wait in vain.
I figured that another would replace it in a bit,
but they just replaced it with a more annoying hit.
What is this type of music, back-throated and annoying?
An inhuman vibrato both mechanized and cloying.
I’m trying to decide how to phrase my irritation.
Oh that it was possible for me to change the station.
Why don’t I move away, you ask. Surely, I am able.
The problem is that it’s the only place here with a table
that will hold a laptop and chairs elsewhere are taken,
so I had to order a chicken sub with bacon
that I really didn’t want just to post this poem.
Blogs require a sacrifice when you’re away from home!