We run around in circles

Like chickens without a head,

Social inhibition

Is something quickly shed,

Everyone's the same

When you're slamming in the pit,

Never need to worry

How you're going to fit.

You're the one that suffers

When you stand and stare,

Out there I am no one

And in here no one cares.

My ears are humming

'Cause the music's loud,

As I take a leap

Over the crowd,

The floor is swelling

With a sweaty throng,

This is where I belong.

As the world worsens

In its misery,

I need to find release

Of this pent-up energy.

What a better way

Than in a crowded hall?

It's hockey without a puck,

It's rugby without a ball,

It's time to rub some elbows

It's time to fellowship.

It's time to fuel the flame of life

That Jesus Christ has lit.

What's in is out,

Non-conformity

Has been established.

It's punk this,

It's punk that,

I don't need you to tell

Me what is punk,

I'm doing my own thing.

Packed-in sardines

In a body swamp,

Some will want to skank,

Some will want to stomp.

The pogo's still in style

With those in the old school,

Down with hate and violence

Is the only rule,

You say that punk is dead,

You say that it is gone,

Maybe you gave up

Maybe you're just wrong.