fauxcroft

Beer filled music rooms

And tattooed arms

Spiky coloured hair

This one’s the charm

My kind of people

My kind of sounds

I maybe the oldest punk in town

My kind of night

Sharing chats

With others who know

Just where I am at

Still after all these years

Though I refrain from the beer

I still feel the buzz

Of the crowd

And the music that plays loud and proud

Call me the oldest punk in town

But I am happy being here

Without any doubt.