I can't belive what it's come to be. a watered down, diluted joke of what i want it to be. kids cry about thug life woes and wear hip-hop clothes. but drive home to a mansion after every single show. we got new jack kids wishing they were old school skins. racking up scene points with every e-bay bid. they got nothing to fight for. that shit isn't hardcore. don't even try if you ain't got no heart boy. you're just playing a game. that "true til death" shit is do damn lame. And i'm not playing this game. you won't last past your college days. i can't believe that it's come to this. the struggle's easy to forget if you don't know it exists. a lot of you have forgot our rotts. punk rock, ol, flight jackets, and boots. you got nothing to fight for. that shit isn't hardcore. don't even try if you ain't got no heart boy. all the bands, all the crews, all of my friends. it's a time to break this scene apart and rebuild it again. we'll rebuild it again