Letras: Discharge. But After The Gig.

Leather and sweat fills the atmosphere
Stretchin and drippin just to pogo too
The anarchy show, they shout it out

There is no real music
And I'm just shoutin' and screamin'
But that is a response to an anarchist meeting

But after the gig is my true bender
Every shake back to me goes
Poor lambs, this is a fuckin slaughter

You think that this is a turn of phrase
Realism is what we're preachin
Are you really so afraid?