A prayer to Bob god of Ipods

As i am stuck in the valley of shadow of morning and evening rush
through bus and train
Bob protect me from the abyss of the dead Ipod commute
surround me with glorious angelic noise as not to hear
Hipsters speak of piss bands, vegan cooking and Williamsburg
plague me not with emospeak of hardcore, metalcore, twatcore or Guitar Hero
teach them there is a reason hair metal died and not ironic fashion
keep thine holy battery alight as i pass through stop after stop
of tourists who have lost their way from the Century 21 store
i pray not to always have a seat but to always be in thine grace
of your deafining bass in my right hand as i am surrounded with nonsense
i have no fear
but i do have FEAR,Billie Holiday,Deltron and the Clash
yours is the power,kingdom and glory
until i upgrade or buy a Zune
amen

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