Punk’s Storming   Heaven

Sweet one, friend, lover, and comrade in arms.’ Just walk away from posers’, sycophants, and self-important, self-righteous old fucks. They are not worthy of your attentions. 

You haver lived the life, and continue to live, dream, and be it. You recognise the sacred music. You both, create it and savour it. You and both have experienced the stigmata and screamed in ecstasy as it appeared on our arms and in our souls.

One day we will storm heavens gates armed with sacred switchblades, clothed in blessed black leather. Punks’ mobs, looking like a cross between the nomads of the “Mad Max,” and “Sid and Nancy.” Refusing to pay cover and demanding, drink tickets. Walking back stage, and chopping heavenly lines. Shooting heaven straight into our necks. 

Don’t be angry, but instead pity them, as they have not your grace, beauty, and talent.