And so as the vicious street punks and the droog crews make merry in the modern cities of ultra fashion, so I dress to impress and clash in the streets.

Hammer and Brass knuckle, chains and living by the switchblade life.

Speeding lights and Burgess printed the method.

Savage young punks.

Sword duel for honor long gone out the window now, guns are for the classless, if you have a hate-on for someone, fist to fist or blade to blade, bat to bat and blood to blood. Look em the eye if you want to shed some flesh.

Bowler hats and commando boots, canes, bats, bruises and blood.

Real flash horrorshow, savage young punks, the dreams of youth wasted on the violence of wide eyed children, children of the digital era who grew up as latchkey kids, who grew up feeling isolated and had no healthy outlet for that anger.

Anger is an energy, the birth of the atomic bomb.

The homegrown domestic terrorist.

Suddenly violence seems less romantic and street gang fights for respect and turf turn to stray bullets raining down across the nation, homes and schools, churches and weddings.

We still love our violence.