What could this be, too much MTV? Chalk another fad up for its fall into infamy. WhatÔÇÖs in a standard if it changes all the time? YouÔÇÖre still having trouble in defining your own kind. Need I remind you, we all knew you before, you threw the rocks at the stage from your glass house on the floor? Now I think youÔÇÖre punk, just because itÔÇÖs in. You found a foul mouth and a couple safety pins. Got a peaceful feeling, I donÔÇÖt want to fight no more. Got a peaceful feeling, I donÔÇÖt care if weÔÇÖre punk, or ska, or hardcore, enough for you, itÔÇÖs sad but true, you can call us names till your face turns blue. Our assurance comes from God, itÔÇÖs nothing new, weÔÇÖll never care ÔÇÿcause weÔÇÖre never cool enough for you. That smug look on your face, your nose up in the air, your patches say youÔÇÖre open-minded, but still you couldnÔÇÖt bear, some punk thrown in with ska. You said it wouldnÔÇÖt work. Well you can take your Vespa home ÔÇÿcause ska made you a jerk. The purist turns a deaf ear. HeÔÇÖs such an intellect, Does he think his censorship is gaining our respect? The raising of a fist, like a trigger of a gun. Stop and see weÔÇÖre all alike, and we can dance as one
