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Soldiers of the Junkyard
We sat on roof tops drinking 40oz of courage
and running toward the edge
Stopping just before we fell.
Throwing bottle after bottle at the tent city below
screaming vulgarities into the night sky
We were the kings and queens of the west,
jumping trains going nowhere
saving up only to throw away
The backwash of a wasted youth culture
An I don’t give a fuck attitude, that we proudly displayed on our jackets.
Lovers on the lam, and killers on the run
Shoot first and ask questions later aderenaline junkies
Staring into the endless void of space and demanding more
Nomads in the land of our fathers.
there wasn’t a problem we couldn’t solve, that our parents didn’t create
Hailed for our creativity, under fire
A reckless bunch of screaming children, waving their flags higher
Raising their voices louder
And taking shots in the dark.
We were the soldiers of the junkyard, true warriors of virtue
Proud of the hertitage we created, and the everlasting bonds formed in blood
We were the few among many, the voice of the people
we were foolish to think that it would last.
