Let's inherit the earth, because no one else is taking it.
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Come on, do your worst, before the moment's passed.
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In bedrooms across England, and all the Western world,
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there's posters and there's magazines but the music isn't ours.
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Because we write love songs in C, we do politics in G,
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we sing songs about our friends in E minor.
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So tear down the stars now and take up your guitars:
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come on folks and try this at home.
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Let's stop waiting around for someone to patronize us.
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Let's hammer out a sound that speaks of where we've been.
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Forget about the haircuts, the stupid skinny jeans,
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the stampedes and the irony, the media-fed scenes.
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Because we write love songs in C, we do politics in G,
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we sing songs about our friends in E minor.
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So tear down the stars now and take up your guitars:
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come on folks and try this at home.
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Because the only thing that punk rock should ever really mean
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is not sitting round and waiting for the lights to go green,
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and not thinking that you're better because you're stood up on a stage.
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If you're oh so fucking different then who cares what you have to say?
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Because there's no such thing as rock stars, there's just people who play music,
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and some of them are just like us, and some of them are dicks.
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So quick, turn off your stereo, pick up that pen and paper,
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you could do much better than some half-arsed skinny English country singer.
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Because we write love songs in C, we do politics in G,
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we sing songs about our friends in E minor.
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So tear down the stars now and take up your guitars:
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and come on folks and try this at home.
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Try This At Home
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| Frank Turner |
