Yes that's right, punk is dead It's just another cheap product for the consumers head Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors Schoolboy sedition backed by big time promoters CBS promote the Clash Ain't for revolution, it's just for cash Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be Ain't got a thing to do with your or me Movements are systems and systems kill Movements are expressions of the public will Punk became a movement cos we all felt lost Leaders sold out and now we all pay the cost Punk narcissism was a social napalm Steve Jones started doing real harm Preaching revolution, anarchy and change Sucked from the system that had given him his name Well I'm tired of staring through **** stained glass Tired of staring up a superstars arse I've got an arse and crap and a name I'm just waiting for my fifteen minutes fame Steven Jones, you're napalm If you're so pretty vacant, why do you smarm? Patti Smith, you're napalm, your write with your hand But it's Rimbaud's arm And me, yes, I, do I want to burn? Is there something I can learn? Do I need a business man to promote my angle Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear The social elite with safetypins in their ear I watch and understand that it don't mean a thing The scorpions might attack, but the systems stole the sting PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
Yes that's right, punk is dead It's just another cheap product for the consumers head Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors Schoolboy sedition backed by big time promoters CBS promote the Clash Ain't for revolution, it's just for cash Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be Ain't got a thing to do with your or me Movements are systems and systems kill Movements are expressions of the public will Punk became a movement cos we all felt lost Leaders sold out and now we all pay the cost Punk narcissism was a social napalm Steve Jones started doing real harm Preaching revolution, anarchy and change Sucked from the system that had given him his name Well I'm tired of staring through **** stained glass Tired of staring up a superstars arse I've got an arse and crap and a name I'm just waiting for my fifteen minutes fame Steven Jones, you're napalm If you're so pretty vacant, why do you smarm? Patti Smith, you're napalm, your write with your hand But it's Rimbaud's arm And me, yes, I, do I want to burn? Is there something I can learn? Do I need a business man to promote my angle Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear The social elite with safetypins in their ear I watch and understand that it don't mean a thing The scorpions might attack, but the systems stole the sting PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
