I’m rather pissed that punk is becoming commercialized. I was waltzing about the mall the other day looking for some clothes, when I saw a denim jacket, torn at the sleeves with punk this and punk that on it in a trendy brand store. Half these idiots have never even listened to those bands, they don’t buy the music, and they don’t support the industry. Yet they wear the clothes as a fashion statement. It means so much more than that. I understand why Native American’s get pissed off when white folks strut around in headdresses for a fashion symbol.
Older than the hieroglyphs on the tombs of Egypt,
That’s the length of my love for you…
Never once a moment past, that I didn’t think of you,
Only with crippled regret of the dawning morning dew,
Did I know that happenstance, the wind would take you too.
With the speed of the blooming glory’s and collapse thereof,
My dear met with such salvation of futures tumbling shove,
From my life you were cast as a heart wrenched from a chest,
It lay there beating, pulsing, pitifully, pathetic in its task.
Never again shall I ever, lay mine eyes upon you,
In remembrance of the last smile, with that the distance grew,
Those few fond memories I have when I think of us two,
There in the coolness of our imaginary moors, of sinking ships,
A promising shore.