I used to be a badass punk,
Saying “f…” to the middleclass masses;
But, now I drive a four–by-four,
Wear slacks and bifocal glasses.
I used to be a badass punk,
Protesting about capitalist tension,
But, now I shop at M and S,
And worry about my pension.
I used to be a badass punk,
Who dyed their hair for kicks,
But, now it’s grey, and falls each day,
Into my Wheetabix.
I used to be a badass punk.
Who lived for anarchy,
But, now I recycle carrier bags,
And drink Fairtrade, organic tea.
I used to be a badass punk,
Who pogoed to the best,
But, now I’ll have a quiet night in,
Watching TV in my vest.
I used to be a badass punk,
Who gave two fingers to the Queen,
But, that was just so long ago,
When I was seventeen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem