Punk Rock In The Wrong Hands (Pg.99)

I am a prisoner in a war of idiots. The stomping feet of waltzing hypocrites pave the way of a brave tomorrow. Choke the throat of passion and sorrow. Kill my drifting breeze of thought. I have been captured. I have been caught. I am a prisoner in a war of scowls, coughing youth from its bowels. I am doing fine. I am feeling well, deep inside my dark well cell.