Aching, battered and bruised.
But it’s what I do, what I choose.
When I was just 16 years old.
Into the pit I went, since then I was sold.
The Music, the violence, the danger, the life.
I can’t watch a band and stand still all night.
I need to feel the aggression in raw form.
Thrashing around kicking up a storm.
But I fear as age creeps up I’ll not keep the pace.
I’ll look a fool not aging with grace.
Then think fuck it! That’s my I’m here!
And I’ll suffer tomorrow, but not shed a tear.
For I know I’ve been true to my cause.
And I’ll keep thrashing til they close my tomb door.