If e'er there were a man to make synth pop,
Not Aaron Maine would I think it to be.
Not lonesome crooning sputtered out atop
Those cracked guitars, nor the angst of "Skinny Trees,"
But catchy, tight, infectious vocal lines
And synths and drums with such great energy,
Arranged so well that, still, the vocals shine
In all their autotuned cacophony.
With Greta Kline's refrains to punctuate
The shimm'ring morass of the instruments,It's lovely, simple to appreciate,
And thoughtful, while remaining innocent.
Iambic pentameter's really, really hard.
So is lofty diction; something something avant-garde.
