The [bad word]  what are they playing at?
Don't like the music, don't like the words, don't like the sentiments,
Well keep it for the birds and bees, boys, [bad word] 
Yes that's right, I stepped out of line,
What do you want? What do you want?
As long as I play it moderate, that's fine,
Well, [bad word] [bad word]  [bad word] [bad word] 
Pick your nose with your ball pen, put your snot in sounds,
Back to your play pen with your street cred minds.
You whimper and whine from the pages of the press,
Ridicule and criticise those who want to change this mess.
There's people our there who are trying to live,
People who care, now, what do you give?
So many parasites living off our sweat,
So many [bad word] in for what they can get,
Punk ain't about your standards and [bad word] 
It ain't another product for the suckers and the fools.
Your sit behind your typewriters shovelling [bad word] 
Rotting in the decadence of your [bad word] lined pit,
Waiting for the action so you can grab a part,
But it stinks so bad, who's going to smell your [bad word] 

"CAN YOU PUT ME ON THE GUEST LIST?
IS THERE ANY FREEBIE DRINK?
I CAN'T WRITE UNLESS I FEEL WELL [bad word] "
 [bad word] off, you [bad word] stink.