Somewhere in Los Angeles
There's a scene in the underground
Runaway sons of the greed generation
They are all they have
And so they riot like it's 1992
Florence and Normandie explode
Kids raise their fists in the night
In the pit, in the muck and the mire
In the dirt, in the sweat and the holy fire
The man's got a stranglehold of me
I can see em' watching from above
They like to call me a witless punk
For playing the music that I love
A backyard pit explodes
There's danger in our honesty
Fueled by punk and anger
Against those motherf*ckin fascists
Alienation breeds creativity
Alienation breeds community
Burning through the backyards
Burning through the empty lots
Beyond our broken lives and homes
Fighting for our stolen souls
Florence and Normandie explode
Kids raise their fists in the night
In the pit, in the muck and the mire
In the dirt, in the sweat and the holy fire
Holy fire
Holy fire
Holy Fire
Holy fire