Disregard To The Fakes

1994 brought the unscarcity of a scene. i was always into punk were the shouts of the unsung traders.
the good life defined by them was eight smokes and a fucking band. pants to suit two people was your premature ticket to scene success. but i ask now where are my polluted lung friends. are they now blossoming buds in the new fad of choice. bleed your ears to happiness but don't forget the truth. don't feel hurt if i snicker your secret away when your back. but now your back. don't forget.