Music, Teat, Music

you need the supporters and the fans
the kooks and weirdos
writing their anti-what’s-it screeds
in their limited run
hand-numbered ‘zines
a scant smattering of the too many
untuned bands
out to rehash
thirty year old potatoes coated in mold
the kids in the squats
cooking, cleaning, organizing
even vulture agents and managers
clueless promoters
local king shits of the scene
but for all them counted
across the countries
the brunt of punk
the maintenance and life
of the scene
rests on the shoulders of the few
without whom
all of it falls
into powerless disorganization
impotent chest-beating
casted blame
laments of victimization
and hucksters
selling tattoos, Mohawk porn,
drugs and alcoholic romanticism
to rebellious rebels
rebelling against rebellion
as they put on that cracked Crass record
for one final undignified spin


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