When he was Insane
Beauty never left his side;
The punk girls all
Cut their flesh for him
In the pool hall bathroom stalls;
And Suicide danced in his honor.
Even the Hard Boys
Smashed windows and burned cars
Shouting his name
In the back streets of South Boston.
He’d laugh
Till his lips turned blue.
When he was Insane, he
Was the King of Punk Suburbia.

then he killed a man, and
became sane; he shed his
black coat of lunacy, and
his moon fell away

He walked awhile with Delirium
He smashed his guitar and went
For a swim; the Muddy River washed
All over him. And he became, instead,
Sorrow. And all tomorrow’s parties
Seemed to make sense. Now Beauty
Disowned him, burned all his records,
From The Clash to The Damned.
All the punk girls spit in his face
And Suicide was sacred no more;
And even the Hard Boys
Scratched down his name
From all the graffiti stained walls;
Pissing on his open wounds
In the dead-end alleys of South Boston.
He’d vomit till
His lips turned green.
When he was Sorrow, he
Was just another punk in suburbia.

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