Oh, God, if I have to hear another band introduce a song by saying, “This song is called…’Untitled.'” Like words cannot convey the depths of your emotions—they may have been good enough for Wordsworth or Tennyson, but not you and your crappy rip-off of Franz Ferdinand. As if the names of your other songs capture something other than the blathering platitudes of someone who got a B- in their poetry class at Sarah Lawrence.
Urban Kvetch: “Untitled”
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