"Punks not dead" that's what they say
Then they go and deface it anyway
They say that it's alive-that it'll never die
But people look at them they think they don't try
People don't see the attitude you have
You hide it with a haircut and a violent path
You want what's due to you, you want respect
But with all your bullshit how can they accept
In the hands of posers, preps, and little punks
They're all 12 years old who go from punk to funk
Now, it's just a style-way you walk and talk
Do what all the others do it won't be your fault
Fabricated madness with just a touch of class
Mohawks and a martini glass
If it's not rebellion then what is the point?
Punks to be yourself not push a joint
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