Punk Rock's Going to Die

I was busy analysing all the things that I should have said when
Lizzie got lippy with me. She was mad and I could have sworn but this
was more than a falling out and her face was 1977.

And 77 looks dirty in the photos. I don't like the look of it. I don't
like the sound of it, no. Lizzie's got punk rock eyes. But punk rock's
going to die. Lizzie had an unfit mother. Lizzie told cocaine lies.
Lizzie had a map of Scotland that she stared at all the time. Lizzie
said fuck the unions, Lizzie said fuck the IRA. The sort of things you
could say in 1978, I didn't even feel the love that I'd been dreaming
of, no.

Lizzie's got punk rock eyes, but punk rock's going to die. That was
just an indiscretion, that was not a big mistake. I would do the same
again, yes, with a few minor changes. Time for some toleration. Let the
hate slip away. Have I told you that I love you a little more
everyday.
Are you gonna let me take your hand? Let me try a little harder, in my
heart there's a little good. Even though I feel bad all the time.

Punk rock's gonna die