SING IT FOR US, HEROES,
HIDING BEHING OUR HEADPHONES,
HOPING MAYBE YOU WON'T NOTICE,
THE DAMAGE OF THIS PSYCHOSIS.
WE ARE SO MUCH STRONGER ON THE OUTSIDE,
WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND DIGNIFIED.

We just want to be heroes,
Trying to drown out our demons with our headphones.
Nothing we want to gain,
Don't want fame, just want these words to be proclaimed.
We break our bones to save our friends,
We're full of broken promises and good intents.

We're the guardians of dreams,
But we find it hard to continue to breathe,
We're hiding behind scars,
Our purpose is carved in the cracks in our hearts.
We're trying to conceal our fears,
Paint ourselves in black and white, let it smear.

SING IT FOR US, HEROES,
HIDING BEHING OUR HEADPHONES,
HOPING MAYBE YOU WON'T NOTICE,
THE DAMAGE OF THIS PSYCHOSIS.
WE ARE SO MUCH STRONGER ON THE OUTSIDE,
WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND DIGNIFIED.

We are the social rejects,
Trying to mask our pain in the words we express.
Nothing else we want,
Don't want to be noticed, just want to share these thoughts.
We mend the hopes of our comrades,
Push them two steps forward to fall five steps back.

We're the protectors of courage,
But we're overlooked by the most observant.
We're not invisible,
But you can't see that we're individual.
We're just trying to continue,
But we're fighting the battles that you never knew.

SING IT FOR US, HEROES,
HIDING BEHING OUR HEADPHONES,
HOPING MAYBE YOU WON'T NOTICE,
THE DAMAGE OF THIS PSYCHOSIS.
WE ARE SO MUCH STRONGER ON THE OUTSIDE,
WE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND DIGNIFIED.

.
                                   D
                          e     e   v      e
                       v        u   s          v
                     u             h              u
                    s               s                 s
                   h               k                  h
                   s                i                    s
                  k      ­       D     e                k
                  i            v         u               i
                  D           s         h              D
                   e            s       k               e
                    v               i                    v
                     u              D                 u
                       s             e                s
                         h           v             h
                            s         u          s
                              k       s        k
                                  i    h    i
        ­                               s
                                       k
                                       i

with one, a tree - short, with leaves of a redder *** than what belong to me,
with another, a road is carried - long, seeming to never end as one step leads to another, tumbling over itself,
with the fortunate, a lantern - hanging from a pole in suspension from the window of my car,
with my unfortunate gnome, a sign - bearing the words I am in a way to force others to Obey the word of my god.

I hide behind the mask I wear, not cause I'm afraid of what people will think of me but cause the world can't handle the true identity of a teenage anarchist.

DO I, DO I, DO I
Have to listen to what
everyone says, at-least to
capture an idea. I've heard
of tedious reviewing, but
can it be raw. Can it dare
to be something other than
structured. Concise is one thing,
but is stress another. If I were
to free-flow like the rest
of the world, would it be bad?
You may say it's trash. But are children's books
the same to a certain degree. May it be long,
may it be short, may it be?
Why must there be an end, when your mind certainly
doesn't, or would you rather talk
of death.

Parents shield young child eyes
As elders clutch their beating chests
These people look at us and think
"Punks"
"Burn-outs"
"Delinquents"
"Youths"

"Always causing trouble where ever
they go"
I'm not a bad kid, honestly,
I'm just playing your part

The band starts playing at a ***** and crowded backyard.
Rebellious youth gather to cast their vote with the stomping of their doc martin boots.
Beer cans everywhere, everyone's trying to let loose the raw stranglehold their society has produced.
The guitars go off and the ritual begins.
First they assemble in the heart of the pit.
In the center individual tragedies bring fourth the wrath of a God's army.
Anarchy you call it, Ha! I call it reassurance, reassurance that this anger is surely communal.

I never saw it more clearer, the youth's power to resist: If the government wont hear us, we will create our own sound even under the batons of fascism, we spit on your rule, your control of our art.

We wont bow down to a law with our names written all over it, while another politician walks free from corruption.
While another officer guns down an un armed child and calls it self-defense.
While suspicious mass shootings continue to occur and mass cameras grow in recording.
While you send more people off to war for another countries resources.
These thoughts explode out of me into shoves, screams, ****** cuts, reckless behavior, and then finally release. Pure psychiatric release.

Discordant notes hit my ears
as I place headphones over them
Punk rock is as good as it gets
When you’re angry
as a rabid bear who hasn’t eaten
in about three months
and it’s been about three weeks
since you left me
and I want to be angry
but I love you too much
to say I hate you
when I know that you’re just
Discordant notes that hit my ears
as I place headphones over them
‘cause punk rock
is as good as it gets
When you can’t be angry
at someone you once loved

everyone keeps saying "we made it"
and it's actually a little confusing
because it's almost like they thought we couldn't
five teenagers on lockdown have never caused so much panic but I guess we're just
the deadbeat generation
(knock once for failure, twice for rebirth, three times to see your life in twenty years-
who knows, maybe you'll have a life in twenty years)
we pick locks on bad days turn back the clocks on good days
if we try hard enough maybe we'll go back to the glory days I wanna blast music from the busted up speakers
in the back of my car I wanna live like I used to
we're anthems and parades and kids crying out in the middle of the night when the hole in their stomach opens up
or closes
we're caught up in a whirlwind of scientific facts and figures and sometimes I want to scream at the top of my lungs
as if that'll help me escape the noise in my head
punk isn't about living through the fall of something it's about living through the rise of me
I am real I am here I will scream it from the ******* rooftops if I have to
I will tap my fingertips on tables even when I'm told not to
I will tattoo myself a thousand times over, an endless mantra of existence
i exist i exist i exist
this isn't a happy ending, or at least it isn't the one I was promised
but it's something
it's okay
and that's good enough because okay is ******* wonderful
lace my fingers with yours call me a queen tell me you'll never let me go because I will never let you go
we are the kids who will never stop living
even when they tell us that we are impossible we are heartbeats pounding on cracked pavement,
leather and cheap beer, lather me in love lay me down to sleep
with the promise of tomorrow
promise me that tomorrow will still be there when I wake up
you can have a house but not a home
I was a house but not a home until I met you
deadbeat degenerates make a better family than most.