Neatly from the alphabet they stare
With their stacked heels and bouffant hair
Des O'Connor and the Grateful Dead
Their sleeeves fading to obscurity
The too-sincere, dangerous and mad
With cracked old videos for 50p
I watched them with mum and dad
Stoned and square, hippy and straight
They are moving to oblivion
Time does not discriminate
Shuffling to the bargain bin
Perhaps it is better to end up here
Than in a summer season on some pier
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