| Well on a cold Tuesday morning, I was walking into town,
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| Had my headphones blaring, didn’t notice what was around,
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| I crossed the road, a car swerved and nearly ran me down,
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| Looked in the driver’s seat, I swear to God it was Doc Brown,
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| He said «Are you Michael J Fox?» |
| I said «No I’m Jonny Fox»,
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| He said «Close enough, get inside,
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| I’m taking you with me to see another time,
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| A place you could only have dreamed in your mind,
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| An alternative reality situated just outside of Clapham,
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| So strap yourself in,
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| Cos where we’re going you don’t need roads,
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| To get to where punk never happened»
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| We landed in a concrete desert, rubble as far as the eye could see,
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| I says to Doc «Where we goin'?»
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| Doc says he’s following me,
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| We found the only building in the city that was left standing,
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| It was my local venue,
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| I know cos I recognised the landing,
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| And there’s a gig on tonight! |
| This town ain’t so bad,
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| I got everything I need, right here in this pad,
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| So I pulled out a bottle and took a heroic swig,
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| Made myself comfortable and got ready for the gig,
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| Well an hour after doors and there was still no-one there,
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| The soundman was on acid, the fucking long hair,
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| The bands never showed cos they didn’t see the point,
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| When all the kids are at home still smoking a joint,
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| They won’t go out and do nothing, not on your nelly,
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| They’re just watching the telly and then feeding their belly,
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| Their parents listen to The Beatles, while they listen to Nirvana,
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| Cos Green Day and The Pistols, well they never heard either,
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| They got long sleeve T-shirts and they never shower,
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| They still believe in flower power,
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| The hippy dream’s faded but they got nothing new,
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| So they wear flares and slippers and burn incense sticks too,
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| The kids would rather skate than go out and smash the state,
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| While their parents sit still and meditate,
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| Action’s at a low when people just don’t care,
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| They zoned out to their surroundings, the anger’s not there,
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| And I’m stuck in this hippy, grunge reality,
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| Where the buildings are crumbling down from apathy,
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| They grab you at school when you’ve just turned 13,
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| And show you your brand new, life long routine,
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| You can sleep and work, and work and sleep,
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| So you can save up the money to buy a new jeep,
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| So you can sleep and work, and work and sleep,
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| Then sleep. |
| Then work. |
| Then work. |
| Then sleep.
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| I pulled a fanzine out my back pocket, held it in my hands,
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| And watched the colours slowly fade away,
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| The words bled right off of the pages til it had nothing left to say,
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| I banged on the jukebox but it was useless,
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| It had no good records on,
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| Not even something weak like 'The Best Punk Album In The World Ever Volume 1',
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| Outside the windows, I saw the excavators coming to tear the place down,
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| No-one stopped them, for there is no community left in this town,
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| There’s no-one around to fight Margaret Thatcher,
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| The power of the flower just couldn’t match her,
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| Too strong was the will of Parliament to cause damage,
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| That with no punk rock everything went unchallenged,
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| Land got knocked down to build more land,
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| That got knocked down again for a couple more grand,
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| With no punk the protests were full of throwbacks calling each other comrade,
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| Of course the young folks' attendance started to fade,
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| So it was easy for the police to move in, they were trusted,
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| And that’s when the whole damn town got busted,
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| They moved CCTV cameras in everywhere,
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| But the people were too apathetic to care,
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| They made them carry ID cards to state where they’re from,
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| As if by being born they had done something wrong,
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| They shipped all the poor folk to live out in the edges,
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| So the rich folk could move in and peer over their hedges,
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| «But before you leave, you’d better build our homes,
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| There, we’ve done you a favour, now you’re on your own,
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| This ain’t your home no more, go find somewhere new,
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| I know you ain’t got the money, cos it’s me who employs you,
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| I know everything about you, what you eat, how you dress,
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| Your hobbies, your turn-ons, your email address,
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| While I had you working in the dark, you didn’t realise,
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| That I completely stopped your ability to organise, |
| I didn’t let you have a reason to communicate,
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| I banned punk rock knowing you hippies would seal your own fate,
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| I controlled everything you wrote, everything you created,
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| I distracted you with advertisements so you forgot what you hated,
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| I fed your dark side, kept you consuming and competing,
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| And like a dog that doesn’t know when to stop eating,
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| You took it all, oh and long was it my intention,
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| You could have beat me if punk rock was your invention»,
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| Instead the city will be sold to the highest bids,
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| If only Sham 69 had of united the kids,
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| If only the 4 Skins had told us ACAB,
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| If only The Ramones had let us know we were a happy family,
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| If only The Buzzcocks had shown us how to do it ourself,
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| If only Crass had shown us there are things more important than wealth,
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| If only The Vandals had shown us it was OK to smile,
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| If only The Dead Kennedys had helped us put our government on trial,
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| If only Rancid had played live, and brought with them that vibe,
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| If we had Sick Of It All and Madball we could put them all on the frontline,
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| If we had GG Allin we’d have learned it’s OK to be hated,
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| If we’d have had The Refused then we could have innovated,
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| If we’d had Poison Idea then they couldn’t push us over,
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| If we’d had Minor Threat then we could have done it sober,
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| If we’d have had Against Me we could have done it all unplugged,
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| If we’d had Operation Ivy we could have done it then fucked off,
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| If we had The Blitz, The Clash, Disorder, Propagandhi,
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| The Exploited, NOFX and anyone that’s handy,
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| There’s a lesson to be learned, one that I will take home,
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| When I return to my normal reality zone,
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| Punk rock has the power to change the world,
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| It lies in every single punk rock boy and girl,
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| So don’t let anyone tell you you’re not worth the earth,
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| These streets are your streets, this turf is your turf,
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| Don’t let anyone tell you that you’ve got to give in,
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| Cos you can make a difference, you can change everything,
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| Just let your dreams be your pilot, your imagination your fuel,
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| Tear up the book and write your own damn rules,
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| Use all that heart, hope and soul that you’ve got,
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| And the love and the rage that you feel in your gut,
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| And realise that the other world that you’re always looking for,
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| Lies right here in front of us, just outside this door,
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| And it’s up to you to go out there and paint the canvas,
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| After all, you were put on the earth to do this,
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| So shine your light so bright that all can see,
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| Take pride in being whoever the fuck you want to be,
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| Throw your fist in the air in solidarity,
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| And shout «Viva la punk, just one life, anarchy» |