Punk's not dead,
But there's a lot of dead punks,
What happened to my lunch table crew?
We all got haircuts,
The black t-shirts have all been handed down,
There's not too many spikes and chains around,
These days,
How'd we get so lame?
When we had skateboards,
That's all that we had,
When we drank whiskey from a jar,
It wasn't so sad,
The cheerleaders were our worst enemies,
Now we just regret that we didn't get in their panties,
So much later,
How'd we get to be such traitors?
But if I ever saw Ms. Principal Sellers,
You know I'd tell her to fuck herself in the ass,
And I can still clean out a thrift store,
In ten minutes or less,
And I'm still here with my four string,
And I'm still pissed about love,
Punk's not dead, fuck you,
Cause I'm still a punk.
Joey, Joey,
I'll meet you in Magloober's class.
Nancy, Nancy,
I know I failed to live too fast.
G. G., Dee Dee, Darby and Sid,
Forgive me for all the good things I did,
You know I tried to be bad, I tried to be bad,
Punk's not dead,
But there's a lot of dead punks . . .
What happened to my lunch table crew?
We all got haircuts,
The black t-shirts have all been handed down,
There's not too many spikes and chains around,
These days,
How'd we get so lame?
