I can't belive what it's come to be. a watered down, diluted joke of what i want it to be. kids cry about thug life woes and wear hip-hop clothes. but drive home to a mansion after every single show. we got new jack kids wishing they were old school skins. racking up scene points with every e-bay bid. they got nothing to fight for. that sh** isn't hardcore. don't even try if you ain't got no heart boy. you're just playing a game. that "true til d**h" sh** is do damn lame. And i'm not playing this game. you won't last past your college days. i can't believe that it's come to this. the struggle's easy to forget if you don't know it exists. a lot of you have forgot our rotts. punk rock, ol, flight jackets, and boots. you got nothing to fight for. that sh** isn't hardcore. don't even try if you ain't got no heart boy. all the bands, all the crews, all of my friends. it's a time to break this scene apart and rebuild it again. we'll rebuild it again