| The Stench of Hardcore Pub Trash |
|---|
| Conquer and divide us, the old grey tote is dying |
| Now we’re marching up over the hill, the dero, drunk, broke rockers |
| You think we’re gone but we’re coming for you |
| We’ll be back with better songs, better riffs, better pills |
| Determined, won’t be gone without blood |
| I’ve got a meeting in an alley and I’m buying a gun |
| Spastic, and relentless, a little drastic, unrepentant |
| Hands off, your pissing me off! |
| Yhe stench of hardcore pub trash remains! |
