Lyrics

Slow summer so Rick Johnson booked a show At the Ice Pick, fucked up punk rock club Used to go there way way back in the day I walked in, seemed like nothing had changed You can't go back, you can't go back If you could would you want to anyway We took the stage and the beer cans flew by Then I saw him lurking out the corner of my eye Fucking bonehead with a spray paint can Drew a swastika on the wall to our back I grabbed a hammer I smashed the fucking wall There's a hole now