No, it’s not peanut butter and jam, baby, this is the last punk band – found in a cave thinking the world had ended, still writing songs no one will ever hear, eating their own toenails and drinking sweat to survive … straight outa Newcastle-Upon-Warwickshire-To-The-Left-Of-Thames
Onetwothreefour –
Modern pop
Has got to stop
Ain’t got no fight
Ain’t got no bite
It’s just lame-ass shit
Gotta take its hit
Time for the new plan
Make way for the Last Punk Band
LPB
Screams out its pain
LPB
3 cords happily insane
LPB
Don’t sing no fucking love songs
LPB
It’s only right if it’s wrong
Corrupt presidents rule unscathed
Pop divas got it made
Golden tits ain’t worth a shit
Take a Hollywood hit, you’re goin’ far
Rap star as dumb as his car
Who’s left to say shit’s shit
Who’s left got the balls for it
We don’t dress up and dance
Never caught dead in glitter pants
All the rebels
Started to sell out
Cover tunes
Gave them silver spoons
No Johnny Rotten
Can be made of cotton
They make Joe Strummer
Sound dumber and dumber
Scream the word fuck
Forget about the buck
Its blasphemy
In the right key
No holy cows
Just take another fake bow
You don’t like me?
Good – that means I’m free!
