What’s punk may stay
To linger free
Inside a backpack
On the subway
On the street

And at the club
Where we can’t drink
We see the marshals
Of the sound
Of the sink

They bob and burst
Like kid balloons
In the basement
At the diner
Greasy Spoons

You have known punk
You have known meaning
This is the way
We carry on
Eternally machining

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