punk


folsom(or SF)

(Daliyat El Carmel)

fuck the politically minded, here’s something i want to say
about the state of the nation, the way it treats us today
At school they give you shit, drop you in the pit
you try and try to get out, but you can’t because they’ve you about
Then you’re the prime example of how they must not be
this is just a sample of what they’ve done to you and me

do they owe us a living? of course they do! of course they do!
do they owe us a living? of course they do! of course they do!
do they owe us a living? OF COURSE THEY FUCKING DO!

SPT(crass cover)

I am depressed and slightly hung over


HATS


80ies


Sometimes I wonder who am I
The world seeming to pass me by
A younger man now getting old
I have to wonder what the rest of life will hold

I hold a mirror to my face
There are some lines that I could trace
To memories of loving you
A passion that breaks reason in two

I – I – I have to think and – I have to think and stop me now
If reminices make you frown
One thinks of what one hoped to be
And then faces reality

I wonder who started all this
Was God in love and gave a kiss
To someone who later betrayed
And God less love sent us away?

Sometimes I wonder who am I
Who made the trees – who made the sky
Who made the storms – who made heartbreak?
I wonder how much life I can take

I see at last a future self
Were you alive I’d ask your help
But thinking puts me in a daze
And thinking never helped me anyway

You always were so negative
You never saw the positive
You always stand upon the edge
And dream of what it must be to be dead

I know I like to dream a lot
And think of other worlds that are not
I hate that I need air to breathe
I’d like to leave this body – and be free

You’d like to float like a mystic child
You’d like to kiss an angel on the brow
You’d love to solve the mistery of live
By cutting someone’s throat or removing their heart
You’d like to see it beat
You’d like to hold your eyes
And though you know I’m dead
You’d like to hold my thighs

If it’s wrong to think on this
To hold the dead past – to hold the dead past in your fist
Why were we – why were we given memories?
Let’s lose our minds
Be set free!

Sometimes I wonder who am I
The world seeming to pass me by
A younger man now getting old
I have to wonder what the rest of life will hold

I wonder
I wonder who started all this – ooh
Was God in love and gave a kiss
To someone who later betrayed
And God less love sent us away

Lopu Reed – “Who Am I?”

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