What could this be, too much MTV? Chalk another fad up for its fall into infamy. Whatâs in a standard if it changes all the time? Youâre 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 youâre punk, just because itâs in. You found a foul mouth and a couple safety pins.
Got a peaceful feeling, I donât want to fight no more. Got a peaceful feeling, I donât care if weâre punk, or ska, or hardcore, enough for you, itâs sad but true, you can call us names till your face turns blue. Our assurance comes from God, itâs nothing new, weâll never care âcause weâre never cool enough for you.
That smug look on your face, your nose up in the air, your patches say youâre open-minded, but still you couldnât bear, some punk thrown in with ska. You said it wouldnât work. Well you can take your Vespa home âcause ska made you a jerk. The purist turns a deaf ear. Heâs 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 weâre all alike, and we can dance as one.