punk kid

I was a fed-up kid

no money nothing to do

& my old man would interrogate

on my time out of the house

weighed in by my stepmother

looking for openings

places to trip up

& most of the time I was innocent

just hanging out

climbing trees talking shit

who we could beat up

who we had to run from

& then we found an opening

crawl space back of the local sport club

could sit there in the dark

drink a couple of bottle beers

making sure to tidy up after

& there we had our real adventures

once escaping in seconds

as the front door got unlocked

we had secrets now swore never to tell

& no matter how the old man intimidated

how she swore to wear me down

I kept that inside like a fed up

punk kid no money nothing to do

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