Teenage Riot
Kill your generation
"I don't know why
You wann' impress christgau
Ahh let that shit die
And find out the new goal"
Johnny's POV
My generation has options and ways, but my generations is made up of thousand fuckers that claim to be so free, so different, they sing about love, but they cant love the ppl, they call love what its really pure need. They all make me sick.
My generation says I dont wanna be a stereotype but they all fight to be like some famous artist, they follow, cuz they dont wanna think.
My generation is deep in depression, they have lost the will to live, they care of no one but them selves, If their life is shit, they kill themselves, they never think of changing the world, of moving things.
They all claim anarchy while they dress black cuz there is this famous dude that says dressing black is being different.
My generation says no president, but most dont even know who he is.( a fucker of course)
My generation is so woried with not being labeled and stereotype that they become the worst stereotype, tragi comic cartoon. Who changes it NO ONE, who cares they dont?
So what if this world is fucked up
you like the world around you? then change it
but dont complain when you dont even try.
So
I sit on this east Soho bar. I look around, and you all make me so, so sick, every sight of you, every damned smile, your tears mean shit to me.
You are screwed. Is it that hard to get???
You are all sick, sick passive bloody bastards!!!!!
No one trys, no one cares, you are all trapped, sick and limited. So locked up to their own bloody lifes. Everyone is scared, and everyone hates to be themselves.
Everyone needs to be no one in order to survive and no one really lives. You are all piece of shit, you are dirty, you make me wanna puke, make me so sick. All death and rotten, failure. Pure deep failure.
I've no sympathy for those who have lost the will to live, and they never tried. You are all slaves, dirty slaves of the media. Slaves of fucking sistem...
You sicken me. All around
Just look up, there are no skys, a roof, white, simple, practical, sick...
Who painted it? Who paid for it? Did she or he wanted to? Did they suddenly said "I wanna paint roofs it makes me whole"
Or was it money?
need?
desperation?
hunger?
frustration?
rutine?
slaves!
And those bricks, some working man made this roof. He used the bricks I see right now. He worked from sun to sun. To get a slice of bread, a slice of money. He was probably yelled at, and
Did he said nothing, and got rid of his dignity?
Or did he packed his stuff and walked away?
Maybe he was so used to be treated as shit, that he didnt care.
Maybe he couldnt care.
Just as you cant.
I say the first. Need, that moves the world.
All you girls dancing on the stage, wearing, prada, all you for sale, cheaper than a piece of steak, The same piece that the workingman, got rid of dignity for.
All skinny and coked. A girl comes from the rest rooms, pale as the snow, red eyes, I bet my life, she just puked her meal.
bollocks!
And then that bloody guy. He doesnt wants to pay for what he drank, he says he aint paying because it had no lemon on. He say he knows his rights. The waitress begs him. She also a whore, I ve seen her. She has 2 kids the only way to keep them is to work from moon to moon. No rest, no calm, no money.
Need.
But he doesnt wants to pay, this sick grin on his face aint even funny to watch. A soho guy feeling rebel, with his brand new clothes, hard core fashion my ass. His expensive eyeliner, so rebel, so screwed. Small pathetic bitch.
Before I know what Im doing. I jump from this cheap leather seat. I walk through the sickest crowd. Clown faces, laughing in pure pain. My fingers join my palm and I close my fist so damn hard, as I feel my nails cut deeply into my skin, blood sliding down, bloody stained fist drives my mind.
I place my hand on his shoulder, an attempt to turn him around. But is clothes are clean and dry, a sensation of sickness run down my spine, and I let go , as he turns around. Surprise on his eyes as my fist goes up and up and up and I hit him so hard it hurts. The fucking second I touch his skin, I can feel the reaction, the temptaton to hit him again haunts me, euphoria rapes my mind, as I watch him fall.
Euphoria flods my body making me numb and helpless.
Numb and sick, I cant exist. For a second I cant exist.
He screams like an animal, I hit him like an animal. A girl next to me frighten, to her eyes, Im a psycho, she scared down her guts. Pathetic dirty example of my generation.
"Kill yr. idols
Sonic death
It's the end of the world
And confusion is sex"
Johnny looks at her, euphoria spells madness looming among the darkness of his black eyes. She looks at him, afraid of of his next move. His orange, short, messy, and dirty hair. His blood stained fists. His rotten looking teeth. His thin firm dry lips, firm as his voice would be definitive, with not even a redish spark, as pale as his skin.He looked sick, not only because of his very thin complexion, and how dirty, and messy his hair was. There was somtheing more, something about his eyes, like dark eternal hole, with a dash of crazyness.
She stares into his eyes with horror, as he aproaches her, and grabs her by the collar neck.
“Dont hurt me, Please, please dont hurt me!” She mumbles among hystericall sobs. He looks deep into her, debating on his mind. While keeping those haunting eyes over hers. Searching for a piece of dignity on .
“Get real..”
He throws her back with a special disgust.
Turning to the guy on the floor. “Fuck off”, he says as he kicks him. Everyone staring at Johnny watching as he gets closer.
And voices just float in the atmosphere “Security!!!!!!” the gravity of their sickness “Are you ok????” smashing him to the ground “He hit him”This is too sick for him. “psycho” So surreal when the time fucks up and goes slow “criminal” Soabsurde lame as thier breath. “TAKE HIM DOWN” Fury, Fury?? ha ha pathetic “Stoooop” the madness? there aint no stop for my spirit “Oh shit”
“Oh shit” He repeats. Security aint far.
He pushes the green eyed girl aside as he runs into the crowd. Passing between girls and guys, sweaty skin, shiny, shiny leather, frightened eyes.
I run as fast as my body can take, reaching for the door, never looking back I run. I hit the road with no regrets, to this never ending night. I run as the world becomes a serie of meaningless images playing through my eyes, nitid and clear but useless. Sounds drugging my senses. Step by step, block by block. No traffic, few ppl, no lights. Im already really far away. Few lights, some girls, 2 cars. No girls more lights, no cars. I keep running through this dirty streets of soho. I have run to much, fuck the queen. I shouldn't have got the last shot, Im to giddy and tired. Fuck it. Screw me
I can go on.
Why?
I just run.
Its been a while, Im to far to be seen, Why?
I just run.
Seems that I cant stop, somehow in my mind stoping would be stupid. I cant stop, I just run.
I can fight it
and I just run.
"Kill yr. idols
Sonic death
It's the end of the world
And confusion is sex"
You wann' impress christgau
Ahh let that shit die
And find out the new goal"
Johnny's POV
My generation has options and ways, but my generations is made up of thousand fuckers that claim to be so free, so different, they sing about love, but they cant love the ppl, they call love what its really pure need. They all make me sick.
My generation says I dont wanna be a stereotype but they all fight to be like some famous artist, they follow, cuz they dont wanna think.
My generation is deep in depression, they have lost the will to live, they care of no one but them selves, If their life is shit, they kill themselves, they never think of changing the world, of moving things.
They all claim anarchy while they dress black cuz there is this famous dude that says dressing black is being different.
My generation says no president, but most dont even know who he is.( a fucker of course)
My generation is so woried with not being labeled and stereotype that they become the worst stereotype, tragi comic cartoon. Who changes it NO ONE, who cares they dont?
So what if this world is fucked up
you like the world around you? then change it
but dont complain when you dont even try.
So
I sit on this east Soho bar. I look around, and you all make me so, so sick, every sight of you, every damned smile, your tears mean shit to me.
You are screwed. Is it that hard to get???
You are all sick, sick passive bloody bastards!!!!!
No one trys, no one cares, you are all trapped, sick and limited. So locked up to their own bloody lifes. Everyone is scared, and everyone hates to be themselves.
Everyone needs to be no one in order to survive and no one really lives. You are all piece of shit, you are dirty, you make me wanna puke, make me so sick. All death and rotten, failure. Pure deep failure.
I've no sympathy for those who have lost the will to live, and they never tried. You are all slaves, dirty slaves of the media. Slaves of fucking sistem...
You sicken me. All around
Just look up, there are no skys, a roof, white, simple, practical, sick...
Who painted it? Who paid for it? Did she or he wanted to? Did they suddenly said "I wanna paint roofs it makes me whole"
Or was it money?
need?
desperation?
hunger?
frustration?
rutine?
slaves!
And those bricks, some working man made this roof. He used the bricks I see right now. He worked from sun to sun. To get a slice of bread, a slice of money. He was probably yelled at, and
Did he said nothing, and got rid of his dignity?
Or did he packed his stuff and walked away?
Maybe he was so used to be treated as shit, that he didnt care.
Maybe he couldnt care.
Just as you cant.
I say the first. Need, that moves the world.
All you girls dancing on the stage, wearing, prada, all you for sale, cheaper than a piece of steak, The same piece that the workingman, got rid of dignity for.
All skinny and coked. A girl comes from the rest rooms, pale as the snow, red eyes, I bet my life, she just puked her meal.
bollocks!
And then that bloody guy. He doesnt wants to pay for what he drank, he says he aint paying because it had no lemon on. He say he knows his rights. The waitress begs him. She also a whore, I ve seen her. She has 2 kids the only way to keep them is to work from moon to moon. No rest, no calm, no money.
Need.
But he doesnt wants to pay, this sick grin on his face aint even funny to watch. A soho guy feeling rebel, with his brand new clothes, hard core fashion my ass. His expensive eyeliner, so rebel, so screwed. Small pathetic bitch.
Before I know what Im doing. I jump from this cheap leather seat. I walk through the sickest crowd. Clown faces, laughing in pure pain. My fingers join my palm and I close my fist so damn hard, as I feel my nails cut deeply into my skin, blood sliding down, bloody stained fist drives my mind.
I place my hand on his shoulder, an attempt to turn him around. But is clothes are clean and dry, a sensation of sickness run down my spine, and I let go , as he turns around. Surprise on his eyes as my fist goes up and up and up and I hit him so hard it hurts. The fucking second I touch his skin, I can feel the reaction, the temptaton to hit him again haunts me, euphoria rapes my mind, as I watch him fall.
Euphoria flods my body making me numb and helpless.
Numb and sick, I cant exist. For a second I cant exist.
He screams like an animal, I hit him like an animal. A girl next to me frighten, to her eyes, Im a psycho, she scared down her guts. Pathetic dirty example of my generation.
"Kill yr. idols
Sonic death
It's the end of the world
And confusion is sex"
Johnny looks at her, euphoria spells madness looming among the darkness of his black eyes. She looks at him, afraid of of his next move. His orange, short, messy, and dirty hair. His blood stained fists. His rotten looking teeth. His thin firm dry lips, firm as his voice would be definitive, with not even a redish spark, as pale as his skin.He looked sick, not only because of his very thin complexion, and how dirty, and messy his hair was. There was somtheing more, something about his eyes, like dark eternal hole, with a dash of crazyness.
She stares into his eyes with horror, as he aproaches her, and grabs her by the collar neck.
“Dont hurt me, Please, please dont hurt me!” She mumbles among hystericall sobs. He looks deep into her, debating on his mind. While keeping those haunting eyes over hers. Searching for a piece of dignity on .
“Get real..”
He throws her back with a special disgust.
Turning to the guy on the floor. “Fuck off”, he says as he kicks him. Everyone staring at Johnny watching as he gets closer.
And voices just float in the atmosphere “Security!!!!!!” the gravity of their sickness “Are you ok????” smashing him to the ground “He hit him”This is too sick for him. “psycho” So surreal when the time fucks up and goes slow “criminal” Soabsurde lame as thier breath. “TAKE HIM DOWN” Fury, Fury?? ha ha pathetic “Stoooop” the madness? there aint no stop for my spirit “Oh shit”
“Oh shit” He repeats. Security aint far.
He pushes the green eyed girl aside as he runs into the crowd. Passing between girls and guys, sweaty skin, shiny, shiny leather, frightened eyes.
I run as fast as my body can take, reaching for the door, never looking back I run. I hit the road with no regrets, to this never ending night. I run as the world becomes a serie of meaningless images playing through my eyes, nitid and clear but useless. Sounds drugging my senses. Step by step, block by block. No traffic, few ppl, no lights. Im already really far away. Few lights, some girls, 2 cars. No girls more lights, no cars. I keep running through this dirty streets of soho. I have run to much, fuck the queen. I shouldn't have got the last shot, Im to giddy and tired. Fuck it. Screw me
I can go on.
Why?
I just run.
Its been a while, Im to far to be seen, Why?
I just run.
Seems that I cant stop, somehow in my mind stoping would be stupid. I cant stop, I just run.
I can fight it
and I just run.
"Kill yr. idols
Sonic death
It's the end of the world
And confusion is sex"