| Hey kids! | 
| Hey dad! | 
| What do you wanna do today? | 
| We don't know | 
| Do you wanna go to the matinee? | 
| No. | 
| Do you wanna go to the amusement park? | 
| No. | 
| Do you wanna go to the punk rock show? | 
| Yeah, let's go to the punk rock show! | 
| Lost in a sea of combat boots, | 
| Flush the bouncers with wasted youth | 
| When did punk rock become so safe, | 
| When did the scene become a joke? | 
| The kids who used to live for beer and speed | 
| Now want their fries and coke | 
| Cursing and flipping birds are not allowed, | 
| In fact let's keep noice levels down | 
| Must separate the church and skate! | 
| Why don't we put pads on the kids, | 
| Helmets, head gear and mouth pieces | 
| Then we could pad the floor and walls, | 
| Put cameras inside bathroom stalls | 
| We make sure only nice bands play, | 
| Make every show a matinee | 
| Teach kids to be all they can be, | 
| And we could sing my country tis of thee | 
| Sweet land of liberty | 
| When did punk rock become so safe | 
| I know it wasn't Duane or Fletcher, | 
| Who put up the barricades | 
| Like a stake in the heart, | 
| Somehow we got driven apart | 
| I want conflict, I want dissent | 
| I want the scene to represent | 
| Our hatred of authority, | 
| Our fight against complacency | 
| Stop singing songs about girls and love | 
| You killed the owl, you freed the dove | 
| Confrontations and politics replaced | 
| With harmonies and shticks | 
| When did punk rock become so tame | 
| These fucking bands all the sound the same | 
| We want our fights, we want our thugs | 
| We want our burns, we want our drugs | 
| Where is the violent apathy, | 
| These fucking records are rated G | 
| When did punk rock become so safe? |