When I discovered punk it was happening in stadiums,
with $40 tickets and only people that could pay for them.
Pretty boys with spiky hair were marketed as hellions
sold to suburban kids, a safe form of rebellion.
So I paid sales tax on my anarchy patch
and never thought to trace the profits back
to banana republicans
I dressed that way to fuck with them
but they got the last laugh.
Chuck Taylors on our feet and glue in our hair
Hot Topic uniforms were work like signal flares.
A corporation made the banner that the weird kids gathered "round
then the weird kids taught each other how to burn the banner down.
Twice a week the library, a safe place to play chess.
Mr. Eckhardt graded papers while the dialogue digressed.
We passed around Marx and talked political ideology
questioned almost everything including my theology.
see back then I was Catholic "love the sinner, hate the sin"
it was my peers not my priest that made me a better man
it was my peers not my priest that made me a better man.
There's a lunchbox full of patches and pins and all the things I used to believe screaming we weren't stupid just naive. The pop punk bands and protest songs that filled those burnt CDs, they came with conversations, they came with human beings.
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