Radio defiled itself on disco
and the Eagles. Frampton came alive
and something died. The Mothers failed to thrive
at Warner Bros as bands in San Francisco
phoned it in or signed on with Scorsese.
Lola bowed to Powerman, the money
talked, the bass line walked…then something funny
happened. Real extravagant and crazy.
A raw guitar, unmitigated riff
of utter filth with missing teeth and splotches—
like history, the chorus was repeated.
The frontman, Johnny Rotten, was obnoxious.
“Ah ha ha!”, he mocked, and asked us if
we ever had the feeling we’d been cheated.