Crashdog Vent
We run around in circles Like chickens without a head, Social inhibition Is something quickly shed, Everyone's the same When you're slamming in the pit, Never need to worry How you're going to fit. You're the one that suffers When you stand and stare, Out there I am no one And in here no one cares. My ears are humming 'Cause the music's loud, As I take a leap Over the crowd, The floor is swelling With a sweaty throng, This is where I belong. As the world worsens In its misery, I need to find release Of this pent-up energy. What a better way Than in a crowded hall? It's hockey without a puck, It's rugby without a ball, It's time to rub some elbows It's time to fellowship. It's time to fuel the flame of life That Jesus Christ has lit. What's in is out, Non-conformity Has been established. It's punk this, It's punk that, I don't need you to tell Me what is punk, I'm doing my own thing. Packed-in sardines In a body swamp, Some will want to skank, Some will want to stomp. The pogo's still in style With those in the old school, Down with hate and violence Is the only rule, You say that punk is dead, You say that it is gone, Maybe you gave up Maybe you're just wrong.
