At 17 he shaved his head
and took a bus into the city.
He thought he was so cool, so hard,
so straight edge.
Oh, so pretty.

Sunday afternoon-
the Bowery-
he walked into a scene
that he’d only ever read about
in underground fanzines.

Throwing fists and throwing elbows
at a hardcore matinee.
Screaming in the pit, he thought
that he had found The Way.

He called himself an anarchist
He was gonna change the world
He called himself an anarchist
He was gonna change the world
He called himself an anarchist
He was gonna change the world
At 17 he held the key-
Get pissed. Destroy. Tear it down.

Now he sits in a recliner
watching Fox News all day long,
and occasionally asks Alexa
to play him an old punk song.

He pounds his beer and pounds his keyboard,
He bitches, moans, complains,
regurgitating conspiracies
that are totally insane.

He was gonna change the world-
but he hasn’t changed anything yet.
All that talk of revolution
was just a minor threat.

He used to be an anarchist
But now he’s just an asshole
He used to be an anarchist
But now he’s just an asshole
He used to be an anarchist
But now he’s just an asshole
That 17 year old would hate
to see what he is now.

Oi! Oi! Oi!