Dane Johns
There’s a six-band show,
In my head,
& they’re playing,
All the same old hits to death,
“This next one’s called, ‘No One Likes You. All of Us Took a Vote.’”
There’s no cover at the door,
All the worst kids are coming in,
“We all know you’re alone, old man.
Don’t look at your phone again.”
No matter where I stand,
I’m blocking someone who can’t see,
So, I keep stepping aside,
Saying, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I really wish I smoked,
Give me any reason to step outside,
Keep looking for my friends,
I swear they said I could catch a ride,
All the while the bands keep singing,
“Haha! You can never leave!”
It’s an all-night basement show.
DM a punk for the address.
Everyone gets in for free.