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