Punk Rock in the Wrong Hands

I am a prisoner in a war full of idiots.

The stomping feet of waltzing hypocrites pave the way of a brave tomorrow, choke the throat of passion and sorrow. 
Kill my drifting breeze of thought
I have been captured
I have been caught. 

I am a prisoner in a war of scowls, coughing youth from it's bowels
I am doing fine
I am feeling well
deep inside my dark well cell.