Punk Rock In The Wrong Hands

I am a prisoner in a war of idiots. The stomping feet of

waltzing hypocrites pave the way of a brave tomorrow.

Choke the throat of passion and sorrow. Kill my drifting

breeze of thought. I have been captured. I have been

caught. I am a prisoner in a war of scowls, coughing

youth from its bowels. I am doing fine. I am feeling

well, deep inside my dark well cell.