The Stepford Junkies

From MSN.com...

Maybe Winehouse (Amy Winehouse)

Some tribute bands spring up after a much-loved artist's death, and some spring up when the much-loved artist merely habitually cancels shows. This London band's hook is that it's more reliable than the original. So if you don't have the jumping offstage and punching fans, the crack smoking, crying and anorexia, it's only Maybe Winehouse.



I HATE YOU "MAYBE WINEHOUSE"

                ("Don't go to rehab. They'll fucking clone ya!"--Amy Winehouse warning fellow musicians)



They're cloning junkies now.
What a big, depressing Wow!
Cloning is literal duplicity,
worse than nature's own.
It's draining to compete with a clone.
Watch "Maybe" and you'll see.
Bitch doesn't even wake in a tree.
That's not real dying--
that's clone dying.
That Winehouse clone is just
phoning suicide in.
Betcha her steering wheel
doesn't smell like gin.
"Maybe" Winehouse,
Do you even know which shop girl
you can't wait to stab
or where you've run up an "'orrible tab"
buying those jeweled knives
secreted in your beehive's caverns?
Do you smell so stank
London fumigates its taverns?
See? Your "act" is all so very wrong.
I mean how we weak must support you strong.
Do you drink every day from five to five?
Do you have any clue about how to drive
a Porsche into a day care center
one Tuesday after a terrible bender...
and then write a check
whilst painting your toenails in rubble,
popping your gum after blowing a bubble?
"Soz mate! I can sing a benefit song..."
Let's see if your X-rays
are even close. Hell Nawl!
Your neck ain't even broke! Gross.
Amateur!
Maybe, I don't want your tickets.
Do you even have rickets?
Dear Stepford Junkie,
kindly step back
and let the real suicide
take the false stage,
Sing and celebrate Lack not Luck.
(As if the Latter
ever gave a fuck!)
May the broken headlight
come forward and horribly beam.
Maybe, you're just a nightmare
souring the middle
of death's lovely dream.