For a moment please, can we pretend that punk isn’t dead?
Can we stop being lectured for our insecurities and inconsistencies?
I ask for a just a moment of silence from critique and bias-
want to breathe in the bitterness of cigarette smoke
let myself learn from mistakes as it scalds my throat
every girl needs a few markings that her parents don’t know about
blued bruises tribal tats on hips and a cz stud in her stomach
i want to feel the high of the hormone rush the glorious imbalance
that scrawls us in history books as ‘doomed to be reckless’ (because we’re restless)
these are the days when I will be young and stupid
let me live in curfew violations middle finger salutes and ripped stockings
don’t pretend we don’t want to be wicked
live like Sid and die like Nancy
for these days we are plagued by our nihilism
and like to claim that England has no future
-What our ego and ignorance prevents us from knowing
Is that the proof of the future rests in our hearts as our brains finish development.
The truth of the matter is that punk dies every day
When the anarchy of our generation fades into business suits
And 9 to 5 office jobs.
Every g****** day punk dies.
A second truth: every g****** day it comes back to life.