Well on a cold Tuesday morning, I was walking into town,
Had my headphones blaring, didn’t notice what was around,
I crossed the road, a car swerved and nearly ran me down,
Looked in the driver’s seat, I swear to God it was Doc Brown,
He said “Are you Michael J Fox?” I said “No I’m Jonny Fox”,
He said “Close enough, get inside,
I’m taking you with me to see another time,
place you could only have dreamed in your mind,
An alternative reality situated just outside of Clapham,
So strap yourself in,
Cos where we’re going you don’t need roads,
To get to where punk never happened”

We landed in a concrete [bad word] as far as the eye could see,
I says to Doc “Where we goin’?”
Doc says he’s following me,
We found the only building in the city that was left standing,
It was my local venue,
I know cos I recognised the landing,
And there’s a gig on tonight! This town ain’t so bad,
I got everything I need, right here in this pad,
So I pulled out a bottle and took a heroic swig,
Made [bad word] and got ready for the gig,

Well an hour after doors and there was still no-one there,
The soundman was on acid, the [bad word] long hair,
The bands never showed cos they didn’t see the point,
When all the kids are at home still smoking a joint,
They won’t go out and do nothing, not on your nelly,
They’re just watching the telly and then feeding their belly,
Their parents listen to The Beatles, while they listen to Nirvana,
Cos Green Day and The Pistols, well they never heard either,

They got long sleeve T-shirts and they never shower,
They still believe in flower power,
The hippy dream’s faded but they got nothing new,
So they wear flares and slippers and burn incense sticks too,
The kids would rather skate than go out and smash the state,
While their parents sit still and meditate,
Action’s at a low when people just don’t care,
They zoned out to their surroundings, the anger’s not there,

And I’m stuck in this hippy, [bad word] reality,
Where the buildings are [bad word] down from apathy,
They grab you at school when you’ve just turned 13,
And show you your brand new, life long routine,
You can sleep and work, and work and sleep,
So you can save up the money to buy a new jeep,
So you can sleep and work, and work and sleep,
Then sleep. Then work. Then work. Then sleep.

I pulled a fanzine out my back pocket, held it in my hands,
And watched the colours slowly fade away,
The words bled right off of the pages til it had nothing left to say,
I banged on the jukebox but it was useless,
It had no good records on,
Not even something weak like ‘The Best Punk Album In The World Ever Volume 1’,
Outside the windows, I saw the [bad word] to tear the place down,
No-one stopped them, for there is [bad word] left in this town,
There’s no-one around to fight Margaret Thatcher,
The power of the flower just couldn’t match her,

Too strong was the will of Parliament to cause damage,
That with no punk rock everything went unchallenged,
Land got knocked down to build more land,
That got knocked down again for a couple more grand,
With no punk the protests were full of throwbacks calling each [bad word] 
Of course the young folks’ attendance started to fade,
So it was easy for the police to move in, they were [bad word] 
And that’s when the whole [bad word] town got busted,

They moved CCTV cameras in everywhere,
But the people were too apathetic to care,
They made them carry ID cards to state where they’re from,
As if by being born they had done something wrong,
They shipped all the poor folk to live out in the edges,
So the rich folk could move in and peer over their hedges,
“But before you leave, you’d better build our homes,
There, we’ve done you a favour, now you’re on your own,
This ain’t your home no more, go find somewhere new,
I know you ain’t got the money, cos it’s me who employs you,
I know everything