Ode to  Ed Sheeran

Ginger like biscuit
you crumble under my fist
pretentious as Chris martin
energetic as a pubic cyst
You're as Interesting as dog turd
annoying as a dose of thrush
your words are like small pox
deadly to the touch.
 
Every songs a car crash
In a field of fluffy dreams
Lets blast you off  in a rocket ship
Where no one can hear your screams
Strumming your flimsy G string
You're a James Blunt wannabe
YOUR BEAUTIFUL YES YOUR BEAUTIFUL
I bet you sit down too pee.
 
Your first album was dire
I hated it so much
I set myself on fire
while getting hit by a bus
your second album  
made me insert vegetables in to my rectum
In return i would bind you with your guitar strings
and poke your eye's out with your plectrum.
Your words and music give me the bend's
but i do like one part of your latest album
...the bit where it ends.
 
You're a turd in a punch bowl
You need some face melting distortion
Your a record mans wet dream
A corporate music scene abortion
So whinge your way to the top of the charts
With hit after dreary hit
Fasten your knee pads, open up wide
You talentless little shit.
 
By Marcus Cooke And Tom Quinton