Just because I walk like Obi-Wan Kenobi, You people talk but you don’t even know me.

What do I do when it’s all been done, when the words have all been sung and I’ve given up the best of me? Let the music play!

But the world is black and hearts are cold and there’s no hope, that’s what we’re told and we can’t go back, it won’t be the same, forever changed by the things we’ve seen.

These critics and these trust fund kids try to tell me what punk is, but when I see them on the street they got nothing to say.




