Where did all the punk go?
Be punk at what you do
And if someone tells you to stop, say fuck you
But don’t forget to throw a one two
Because there’s love in everything you do.
Show the world what they aren’t ready for
And hit them with a metaphor
That makes their jaw hit the floor
From never thinking like that before.
Paint your pictures with drugs
Because your mom didn’t give you enough hugs
And you are fed up with the scrubs
Who say writers can’t be thugs.
Look up to those who are different
As long as they aren’t ignorant
And their heart is considerate
Even though it doesn’t seem deliberate.
Is there a punk poet who keeps drugs on a pallet?
More importantly, would anyone look up to him?
I’ll try it out and let you know.
A little later though,
I have to smoke this bowl.