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77, 78, PUNKed
Our yesteryear
Youngster's fear, turned to dust
Just then. We discovered punk,
we dunked our souls
unlikely society trolls, we were individuals
residuals, no modern comparison
An Oliver's army garrison, we fought back
dressed in black, moved by the beat,
leather booted feet stomped the city.
what a pity, Johnny Rotten died
We cried, while out of reach
On Rockaway B...
Thursday 21st September 2023 8:52 am
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