PUNKS
Don't ask me why, I have a place in my heart for punks. You know, the real punks. Crusty outcasts with liberty spikes, black leather, studs, the whole deal ya know. Thing is I was never really a punk in that manner. I liked punk music, I went to punk shows, but you wouldn't have called me a punk. Heaven above, I wore dockers like every single day in high school. So anyways, this love for the punks, keeps popping up all over in my psyche.
First, that song Paper Candy, "a couple punks with a lotta love", I'm not going to explain the song (till Im on VH1 Storytellers) but a lot of the imagery is about punks and punk shows.
Second, two nights ago I had a dream and I was driving down this street alone at like 3 a.m. All I could see was a convenience store up a head and three teenage punks walking down the road. For some reason I knew they were homeless and I wanted to help them out. So I turned around and pulled over, ask I walked towards them two of them ran away and the youngest one, probably 14, stayed. So this kid is all skinny and punked out in black and ask him what his story is. So he says he parents were on drugs and beat him and left him for dead on the streets. I offer to buy the kid dinner and just as I pull my wallet out two cop cars come screaming down the street. Two mustache adorning cops get out and cuff me... for solicitation of a postitute!!! And I'm like, I was just trying to buy the kid dinner! But they don't believe a word I say, they say "yah buddy, we've heard that one before, tell it to the judge."
So they toss me in the back of a van and I think we're heading to jail but we acctually ended up at their house where they're having a party. The place looks all 70s, shag carpet, sunken living room. Pretty nice and there's people doing drugs everywhere, scantily clad people. So I'm like F the police, they're having drug orgy parties and they're taking me to jail for trying to buy a kid dinner. Anyways I go to jail and they put me in solitary confinement. Yeah it gets weird. Im in the middle of a white room with a wooden chair and I have a straight jacket on and I just sit there for three days. I get out on a sunday.
I wake up feeling like I have a record, for soliciting postitution from a kid. Talk about waking up on the wrong side of bed.
PUNKS!
