Dying for a Friend

We meet in run-down attics, smokey rooms and cold garages

A seceret gathering of dumb kids

An endless rotation of smiling faces

We'll never rule the world, but we sure as hell own every shithole where we laugh

And some will say this is forever

While some will stab each other in the back

But camaradarie is not built on trust

Rather, it's knowing that there are others fighting your fights

For those who offer you relief, whether benign or malicious

Will always be called a friend