Punkrock

When I was young and angry I wondered where I got my blood.

The blood that boiled easily,

The blood that made me cuss.

The blood that told me do not follow,

But fight for what you want.

When I pinned the picture

Of Johnny Rotten to my wall,

I asked myself what makes me

punkrock most of all?

And I thought that it was something that I’d found

Something mined from the world around.

But time has passed my punkrock blood still lasts

What makes anyone punkrock at all?

My mom is so punkrock

She has her own beliefs.

She never just rolls over and blindly believes.

My grandpa is so punkrock

He’s as bullheaded as any king of punk

He’ll call you out on what you’ve done

And the saunter away with his little funk.

My grandma was so punkrock

She always wore her heels.

And never let being a woman stop her

From finding and getting the best deals.

My family is so punkrock

We may not have red or blue or green hair

But if you want a people who fight for what they believe

Well we’ve got a great big group right here.

Cause punkrock is not about the clothes.

It’s about not being afraid to stand up and cause the boat to rock

Any true punkrocker knows

It’s your attitude, not appearance that makes you so punkrock.

Punkrock is never backing down,

Never giving up

And never letting anyone tell you no.

So I have punkrock in my blood

And that’s where I get it

Through our family lines runs a little bit of mud.

And I will never regret it.