I am Punk, child of the Greasers.
It's "in" to be out:
Out of my old man's house
Out of work
Out of touch with the crap
And stupid ways I didn't learn in school.
School and teachers both stink after three days.
Glory be to my hero,
To James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause.
James taught me what I already know:
How to be cool,
That Heaven is Hell,
That Hell is Heaven.
Like water finding the easiest way around a problem,
I scorn a challenge.
Lately I've taken to rings:
To rings up and down my ears,
To rings through my brow and lip,
To a gold ring on the tip of my nose.
My red, fluorescent hair and abundant rose tattoos
Cause well-earned stares and boos
From creeps like you who wear clean clothes.
"Get out a my face, Jerk."
If I question my choices, my values,
Once again I am assured
by Grease and
by a hundred, go-to-hell performers
That I am right.
Who's makiní da money?
Do people pay to see your inane,
Sandy, you and I both know where it's at.
© Allen Hackworth 2000