We run around in circles  Like chickens without a head,  Social inhibition  Is something quickly shed,  Everyone's the same  When you're slamming in the pit,  Never need to worry  How you're going to fit.  You're the one that suffers  When you stand and stare,  Out there I am no one  And in here no one cares.  My ears are humming  'Cause the music's loud,  As I take a leap  Over the crowd,  The floor is swelling  With a sweaty throng,  This is where I belong.  As the world worsens  In its misery,  I need to find release  Of this pent-up energy.  What a better way  Than in a crowded hall?  It's hockey without a puck,  It's rugby without a ball,  It's time to rub some elbows  It's time to fellowship.  It's time to fuel the flame of life  That Jesus Christ has lit.  What's in is out,  Non-conformity  Has been established.  It's punk this,  It's punk that,  I don't need you to tell  Me what is punk,  I'm doing my own thing.  Packed-in sardines  In a body swamp,  Some will want to skank,  Some will want to stomp.  The pogo's still in style  With those in the old school,  Down with hate and violence  Is the only rule,  You say that punk is dead,  You say that it is gone,  Maybe you gave up  Maybe you're just wrong.