I
could have picked a fight with a feather today,
Then
they played the music. Punk Rock,
I
couldn’t hear the words.
I
wasn’t around in the seventies anyway.
I was washing nappies, cooking meals
And
being fucked around by a
Drunken,
lazy, philandering husband.
“It’s
political,” they said.
My
arse, I thought.
I
remember Black Sabbath.
I
could lose myself inside the beat.
Black
Sabbath kept me sane.
Anarchy
Rules. O.K., they said.
Status Quo Rules. O.K. by
me.