Dont Critique Boston Punk Or People Will Get Mad At You
Where's my place? Where's my station? Where's my fucking voice?
Not a man, not a woman, not a fucking choice
To the front? To the back? Do I cling to the side?
Where's my place? Where's my space? Do I stay outside?

When it's girls to the front, or it's bros in the pit
Where do queers in between find a place to exist?
I don't want your space, I just want my own
I'm erasing myself from where I once called home