But Gothic Nate steps on and on,
And now he's got his iPod on,
His boot comes up, and squelches down,
Alas, his foot is now quite brown!

His shiny boots will never fix,
All strewn with horrid 'Bombay mix,'
The girls all laugh 'urgh, what a minger!'
'Look, he's trod on 'Bungle's finger!'
Young Derek dog can't help but cry,
'Oh, Gothic Nate, Oh no, Oh why?,
You came so close to gothic cool,
And now you're just a tardy fool!
You came so close to grungy charm:
Those girls were almost on your arm!
And now that charm's deserted you,
The only grunge is on your shoe!
Alas, Alack! Oh Nate, Oh why?
Your head is always in the sky!’