pull out the punk rock
we're all pissed off
had another fight
shits getting rough
im tired of this shit
we're all fed up
time to move on
who gives a flippin fuck
fuck everyone
bang your fuckin drums
mash that guitar
smash the feedback hums
the crowds are all dead
and the bands are all soft
something deep down inside my head
tells me to move into a loft
tired of all the bullshit
ready for new lands
we'll get in the car
and get there then
we'll cause trouble
in new towns
tired of this shithole
we'll go look around
see if we can't find
a sweet place to hang
everyone we fuckin know we'll leave behind
pots and pans we'll bang
synths and strings mics that sing
and amps that blaze all over
after shows ears'll ring
be fuckin nice to have a range rover
its fuckin nuts how punks live here
in basements and bashed up bars dive
the people around make it clear
most wouldnt appreciate punk live
but its time we shifted our location
time to stop fucking fitting in their molds
time to fuckin move on
let ourselves be open be bold
with iron resolve
we'll take the land
driving around
in a rotton tin can
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