Oi, hey look, that guy with the green hair, he's a punk rocker!
Look! Look, he's even telling everybody!
You fucking hippie!
I know it’s hypocritical to point fingers at the people who point fingers.
But when we all march to the beat of the same different drummer,
the steps start to come off like clockwork.
I guess I’m saying we could stand to be nicer.
Because when you’re in a basement talking shit and interspersing it with speaking in namedrops and units,
I must admit I’m not the best when on the defensive.
I’d rather steal your whiskey than your heart in conversation.
I’d rather break three strings a song then stick to a routine
like I’m ripe for the picking after growing on a tree
and then talk about the industry, cross-market positivity
with vinyl nerds and brightly colored, quirky messy record sleeves.
I’d rather be vomiting and I despise vomiting.
But thanks for the beer. I appreciate your time but can we talk about something else?
If you really think that you and I are on the same page you can
go ahead and fuck yourself!
Because you’ve got coke and good looks,
I’ve got overdue library books
so let’s be friends and change the subject now.
‘Cause the last thing I wanna be
is another negative asshole.
Like God speaks through my acoustic guitar
and I’ve got the perfect set of morals
on a dry erase board at the front of the house,
FOLLOW THESE CONDITIONS OR WE’LL KICK YOUR ASS OUT:
Vegans only,
NO MEAT ALLOWED!
Straight edge only,
NO DRINKING ALLOWED!
Fixed gears only,
NO THREE-SPEEDS ALLOWED!
Me me me!!! I’M SMART! I’M RIGHT! I’M SMART!
I think it’s dumb when you take the inherently fun
like riding bikes and singing songs and say they’re not for everyone
as if for your whole life you were cool as shit.
Punk tourist!
‘Cause you still beg for cash cause you spent your parents’ last
on a Greyhound to the Fest.
And your jacket says Crass but I don’t give an ass,
I ain’t giving you fifty cents,
so that you can buy a forty and
destroy a hotel party,
and the man who cleans your mess up shrugs and says:
This non-conformity looks like conformity.
Like boring nice people pose threats to your authority.
This positivity is negativity.
And you boys sure left me with a mess to clean!
Smile big, hug bigger.
Talk big, act bigger.
Stop judging, do something.
Shut the fuck up, do something.
Instead of sneering at my friends and me ‘cause we’re not stealing
buy a troubled friend a drink at the bar and tip well.
Don’t spend your time scoffing when do that you’re just scoffing
like the people who scoff at us while defending our community.
You’re a teacher, you’re a parent, you’re the head of a dictatorship.
When the ground is covered up in rules you’re guaranteed to power trip.
This non-conformity looks like conformity.
Why should anyone believe in our community?
This organization doesn’t feel like
A-NA-RCHY
cuz
we’re suiting up to have the same identity!
And the boring nice people say:
SHUT UP THE PUNX! SHUT UP THE PUNX!
All the people who have barbecues to feed their friends and family:
SHUT UP THE PUNX! SHUT UP THE PUNX!
All the people writing zines with information, not just blaming things:
SHUT UP THE PUNX! SHUT UP THE PUNX!
All the boys and girls who are fed up with just saying that we’re punk, we say,
SHUT UP THE PUNX! SHUT UP THE PUNX!