In this punk-rock world we spin,
Where every dream is just begun.
We scrawl our hearts on walls of wood,
And fight for what we think is good.
The zines and pins, the tape and glue,
Our hands are busy as can be.
From midnight shows to morning dew,
We're building up a better sea.
But when the night grows long and cold,
When fingers freeze and dreams grow old,
Remember why you started this:
For love of friends, for change that's missed.
So keep it real, keep it raw,
And never let the dream be marred.
DIY until your dying day,
Where every act is a work of art.
In the chaos, find your peace,
With every breath and every beat.
This life we've made, this wild release,
Is all that matters in the street.
So here's to us, with scars and stumps,
To those who fight when no one comes.
We're not just voices in the night,
But lights that shine without a doubt.
-- CINDER
"diy doesn't mean disorganized."
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