Maybe our music is less urgent
We're rehashing your old sh**
But at least we're moving forward
Leaving your shadiness behind
You can say we are uptight
And have a fictitious punk rule book
I'll be damned if I long for days
Where sketchy f**s are jumping off of speaker cabinets
While wearing wrestling masks
With swastikas on them
Any time I get a taste
Of your golden olden days
It gets punched out of my mouth
By some dodgy f** in the pit
I have no desire to go back to days of constant violence
Destroyed venues, and lack of understanding