- Erotic Poetry
- Thursday night at the punk club
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Its Thursday night at the punk club.
Its going to be fucking wild man.
Its going to be packed and its going to be hot.
Chicks have been getting into punk music. Lots of chicks. Its some sort of crazy fashion.
They dressing up in the leather jackets, with huge safety pins through their ears and noses.
Its fucking Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys and Angelic Upstarts all over again.
And be there bru. Make time my cousin.
Why? Because I said so my bra. Because you need to be there you see.
It's the slam dancing my friend. The fucking slam dancing.
The rule you see, at the punk club my friend. Is for chicks and blokes. Its fucking compulsorily topless slam dancing boet. Women and guys. In equal numbers. Fucking topless, fucking wild.
Drunk
High
Slamming.
Laughing and slamming.
Perving and slamming.
Slamming and feeling.
It's the Punk night.
Thursday night at the punk club.
Be there bru. Be there or be square.
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