those anarcho punks are mysterious…
we’re all presidents, we’re all congressmen,
we’re all cops in waiting,
we’re the workers of the world,
there is the elite and the dispossessed,
and it’s only about survival,
who has the skill to play the game for all it’s worth,
and reach an obscure kind of perfection,
let’s try and keep as much emotion out of this as possible,
let’s try not to remember any names,
we’ll do it for a country, for a people, for a moral vision,
united, we’ll make them remember our history,
or how we’d like to be told,
how we’d like to be told…
and we rock,
because it’s us against them.
we found our own reasons to sing,
and it’s so much less confusing
when lines are drawn like that,
when people are either consumers or revolutionaries,
enemies or friends hanging on the fringes
of the cogs in the system,
it’s just about knowing where everyone stands.
all of a sudden,
people start talking ’bout guns,
talking like they’re going to war,
’cause they found something to die for,
start taking back what they stole-
sure beats every other option,
but does it make a difference how we get it?
well do you really f*cking get it?
no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no….