My point?  I couldn’t help but think of a cute little number from the Bouncing Souls in which the chorus serves as a punk rock salutation for “Hey brother, what’s up!”  or “Hey bitch, choke on a fat one and die.”  Which one am I referring to?  I’ll let you decide.  Either way, East Coast… I salute you.

Bouncing Souls – East Coast Fuck You!

East Coast! Fuck You!
East Coast! Fuck You!
East Coast! Fuck You!

E – A – S – T

You may say we’re weather martyr’s
But snow and ice makes us rock harder
Punkers should be pale and pasty
The pizza here is fierce and tasty

East Coast! Fuck You!
East Coast! Fuck You!
East Coast! Fuck You!

NYC, Boston, DC, Philly, Jersey

We go out west and play some shows
Then we know it’s time to go
Pack the truck and drive on back
New York’s better and that’s a fact

East Coast! Fuck You!
East Coast! Fuck You!
East Coast! Fuck You!

Now don’t get me wrong, as we grow older, we get slower…that’s inevitable.  But older doesn’t mean less younger in my opinion.  When I think about my age, I can’t help but think my math is wrong.  I don’t “feel” as old as I am.  In fact, I still feel like I did when I was in high school pretty much except I have a career and harder to outsmart.

(Don’t try it kids!  I already know what you are going to do before you do because I’ve already done it.)

So basically, I’m a teenager with the financial stability to buy bigger and better toys.  And here’s where I get to my point: I hold more stock in the opinions of kids than I do the opinions of adults.  The reason for this is because kids have not rejected their childhood therefore have not stopped using their imagination.  Adults…well let’s face it, when the last time you used a cardboard box for anything other than packing?  As for me, I just used one as coffee table and before that it was a cat-eating monster. (My cat didn’t appreciate the game, but I thought it was hilarious chasing her wearing a cardboard box).

So I listen to kids.  I listen to their problems.  I listen to their stories.  I listen to their dreams, and I listen to their music.  I listen to them because that keeps me in the correct mindset – that of a kid.  If you listen to other “adults” for too long, you start thinking like one.  And when that happens, you disregard what it means to be a kid.

Sure, many adults might call me “childish” or “immature”, but to me, that’s just elitist drabble.  Kinda like seniors who talk down to you because you are a freshman in highschool.

Well, I for one think kids are cool.  I can easily spend hours building a tower out of wooden blocks with my nephew or talk about random stuff with my niece.  I consider it an honor that they don’t see me as an adult.  I’m in that unique category of being an adjective.  I’m the “cool”, “crazy” or “silly” (insert boring noun here).  Ever notice how “adults” are described with nouns whereas kids are described with adjectives?   “My friend” as opposed to “the wild one” or “my boss” as opposed to “the big fat bully”

So in short my advice to you grown-ups.  Strive to be an adjective because everyone is already a noun by default.  And when a teenager recommends a band that you’ve never heard of before and says “they’re cool, I like them.”  Then do your fn homework and youtube them.  You might be surprised at how much you like them too!

Matt and Kim – “Daylight”

We cut the legs off of our pants
Threw our shoes into the ocean
Lay back and wave through the daylight
Sit back and wave through the daylight

Slip and slide on subway grates
These shoes are poor man’s ice skates
Fall through like change in the daylight
Fall through like change in the daylight

I miss yellow lines in my roads
Some color on monochrome
Maybe I’ll paint them in myself
Maybe I’ll paint them in myself

These sidewalks liquid then stone
Building walls and an old pay phone
It rings like all through the daylight
it rings like all through the daylight

(chorus)
And in the daylight we can hitchhike to Maine
I hope that someday I’ll see without these frames
And in the daylight I don’t pick up my phone
Cause in the daylight anywhere feels like home

I have five clocks in my life
And only one has the time right
I’ll just unplug it for today
I’ll just unplug it for today

Open hydrant rolled down windows
This car might make a good old boat
And float down grand street in daylight
And float down grand street in daylight

And with just half of a sunburn
New yellow lines that I earned
Step back and here comes the night time
Step back and here comes the night time

(Chorus)

So Tony says, “I wouldn’t take this silverware.  Do you realize how many mouths have been on this spoon?  Why do you think I always order a burrito?”

Excellent point right?

So Spoon, (who wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation) chimes in, “did you guys need a spoon?”  He then reaches into his infamous backpack (he kept a lot of odd stuff in that backpack, but that’s a different story) and pulls out a cafeteria spoon.

So Tony, ever so logical, says “Why the F do you have a cafeteria spoon in your backpack?”  Spoon replies, in typical fashion, “I don’t know.  I think I threw it in there when were packing up to leave to class the other day.”  At this, Tony and I both convince Spoon to empty his bag on the table, and here were the contents of his backpack:

-          School Books

-          Pencils and pens

-          Handful of smoke grenades

-          A Pokey toy (from Gumby & Pokey) with a missing leg

-          A fold up bowie knife (about 8 inches long)

-          Magic Cards

-          And about 6 spoons.

Tony and I just stared at him with the biggest ‘WTF’.  Spoon’s reply?  “What are those spoons doing in there?  Oh! My smoke grenades, I was looking for those.  Hey do you guys have any matches?”

That was about 10 years ago, and we’ve called him spoon ever since.

So nowadays, whenever I hear a Sublime song, I fondly remember my friends, Tony and Spoon, and the good times at Comedy Hour.  So here’s to Tony and Spoon, cuz Tony won’t use silverware, Spoon has no matches, and I don’t practice Santeria.

Sublime – “Santeria”

I don’t practice santeria got no crystal ball
I had a million dollars but I’d spend it all
I could find that heina and that sancho that she’s found
I’d pop a cap in sancho and I’d smack her down
All I really wanna say
I can’t say it’s love I need
But my soul will have to wait till I get back and find
heina of my own
Daddy’s gonna love one and all
I feel the break and I got to live it out
I swear that I really wanna know
All I really wanna say is I got mine and I make it
Yes, I’m comin’ up
Tell sanchito that if he knows what is good for him
he best go run and hide
Daddy’s got a new .45
And I won’t think twice to put that barrel straight
down sancho’s throat
Believe me when I say that I got somethin for his punk ass
What I really wanna say is there’s just one way back
And I’ll make it but my soul will have to wait

I used to log onto Baudtown as “Cricket” and hear that wonderful LANline squealing connection.  And when I did, I knew I was going to talk to my friends.  When the town got large enough, we decided to have Baudtown meetings.  These were about twice a month I think, and they were fun!  We got to meet everyone in person.  We would drink, play games, exchange phone numbers, eat, talk about music and socialize.  I always looked forward to BT meetings.  But there was one meeting in particular I will never forget.  I had been flirting online with two girls at Baudtown and they both wanted to meet up in person. The BT meeting was going to be at the Denny’s on Sunset Blvd (we met at different places).  When I arrived, there they were, “Onyx” and “Claudia2421” (their BT handles).  So immediately, I thought…oh crap I’m in trouble.  And when they found out that I had been flirting with both of them, the unexpected happened…they started arguing with each other as to who deserved to be with me.

Onyx pointed out that Claudia2421 broke up with her BF and had just spent time with him last weekend when he visited from out of town.

Claudia2421 said that Onyx still had a boyfriend and had no right to be looking for another guy.

So the arguing got a little more physical and turned into a shoving match.  I couldn’t believe it…these two girls (both hot) were fighting over me and it was my fault they were fighting to begin with.  Looking back at that time, I’m not necessarily proud of that day, but back then, it was my first experience of two girls fighting over me, and I liked it!

Ultimately, Claudia2421 won (I was kinda rooting for her too).  And after that, Onyx stopped talking to me.  But for that one night, I was the object of affection for two insanely hot girls and a trophy to be won.  So was I deserving?  Maybe, maybe not.  But when I went home that night, I put in the tape (yes I said tape) that Claudia2421 made for me and on it was Oingo Boingo.  I vividly remember falling asleep listening to Danny Elfman sing, “we close our eyes and dream and another year has come and gone.”

Oingo Boingo – “We Close Our Eyes”

We close our eyes
We close our eyes and dream and the world has turned around again

When everybody is running in the big race
And having a good time
Who am I to cast a shadow
Who am I?
I looked Death in the face last night
I saw him in a mirror
And he simply smiled
He told me not to worry
He told me just to take my time

Chorus:
We close our eyes and the world has turned around again
We close our eyes and dream and another year has come and gone
We close our eyes and the world has turned around again
We close our eyes and dream …

And if you come to me
And if you touch my hand
I might just slip away
I might just disappear
Who am I?
And if you think I’m worth it
And if you think it’s not too late
We might start falling
If we don’t try to hard
We might start falling in love

(Chorus)

We’re on the healing path
We’re on a roller coaster ride
That could never turn back
And if you love me
And if you really try
To make the seconds count
Then we can close our eyes

(chorus)

We close our eyes and the world has turned around again

Now some of you may be asking, why?  Why would I want to do this?  Why would I actively seek this?  I wasn’t driven by wealth, power or prestige.  Frankly, I wasn’t all that interested in any of that.  The reason why I wanted to do it was simple.  It was because I knew I would be good at it.  I have a knack for being devious, cunning and twisted.  Sprinkle on a general disliking of the human race and VOILA!  Instant villain.

Now I won’t get into the story of how close I was to getting in or what made me change my mind because that’s too personal and I’d rather not share it.  But I will tell you that for some strange reason, I root for the bad guy.  I love villains and dodgy heroes.  Professor Moriarty, Severus Snape, The Count of Monte Cristo, Constantine and many others.  To me, villains and dodgy heroes represent what most people choose to lie to themselves about.  The fact that we all have a dark streak.

Now, I’m not saying give in to your dark streak and be outright evil like a stereotypical villain.  But I say, indulge in it a little.  Don’t send people running from you in terror, but be intimidating enough for them to not sit next to you on the bus.  I like it when people say to me, I wouldn’t want to be your enemy, because in truth, you really wouldn’t!  Hell I wouldn’t want to be my own enemy either.  I can be downright evil and would enjoy it!  But what’s important to note here is that we are all capable of being a villain.  The test of good character is knowing your flaws and not giving in to the impulse to act upon them.  But personally, I like to walk the grey line here.  Do I yearn for world domination?  Nope.  But you can bet your ass I have a plan B in case the opportunity presents itself.

So here is my song.  It was written for two prominent gangsters, who also happened to be twins, (Ronnie and Reggie Kray) which controlled London’s Eastend in the 1960’s.  A musical toast to everyone’s dark streak, may it live in infamy.

Morrissey – “The Last of the Famous International Playboys”

Dear hero imprisoned
With all the new crimes that you are perfecting
Oh, I can’t help quoting you
Because everything that you said rings true
And now in my cell
(Well, I followed you)
And here’s a list of who I slew

Reggie Kray – do you know my name ?
Oh, don’t say you don’t
Please say you do, (oh) I am :

The last of the famous
International playboys
The last of the famous
International playboys

And in my cell
(Well, I loved you)
And every man with a job to do
Ronnie Kray – do you know my face ?
Oh, don’t say you don’t
Please say you do, (oh) I am :

[Chorus]

In our lifetime those who kill
The news world hands them stardom
And these are the ways
On which I was raised
These are the ways
On which I was raised

I never wanted to kill
I am not naturally evil
Such things I do
Just to make myself
More attractive to you
Have I failed?

Oh…
[Chorus]

I’m more of a feral child and I’m scrappy like that.  Now don’t get me wrong, my choice in being a werewolf has nothing to do with retaining any sense of humanity or having the best of both worlds, i.e. living as a human all the time except on a full moon.  And it certainly has nothing to do with the Twilight series.  I mean, those werewolves are weak sauce.  I’m talking moreso, Underworld werewolves; the ones that rip you to pieces first and then sort out the body parts later.

My reason is much simpler.   I’d be a werewolf because I think it would be really fun.  I mean c’mon, think about it…

Clothing? – optional

Having a bad day? – rip a head off

Someone gives you a dirty look? – tear off a limb to help them realize the error of their ways

Need transportation? – You run faster than cars

Feeling crazy? – Howl at the moon

Need friends? – Bite somebody

Attacked by another monster? – ha-HA, we run in packs you fool! Come get some!

In fact, if I had to choose between living as a human or a werewolf, I’d still pick a werewolf.  No desk job, no boss, no bills, just running wild through the woods and eating college students making out in a car.  I’d be an f’d up werewolf too.  I’d knock on the door before I ripped it off its hinges just because I think it would be funny.  ”Babe, what was that?  Wait…is that a werewolf knocking on the door? AHH! – nom nom nom.”  Yes, a sociopathic werewolf with an odd sense of humor, free of social burden, and equipped with the tools necessary for me to sustain myself.  And should I ever tire of this lifestyle, I can always fall on some silver knives.  Wow, wouldn’t that be nice – if only.

So what’s the point of this post?  Why am I talking about werewolves?   What does this song have to do with anything?  In a word, existentialism.  “Memento mori” is a warning.  It’s latin for, ‘remember you must die.’  There is no werewolf happy ending for us.  So, then…what are you waiting for?  Stop dreaming about the things you want to do and just start doing them.  Haven’t you wasted enough time already?

“knock knock” (low growling)

“Memento mori” – Everybody Loves Irene

What can you do if life turns into blue?
There’s nothing you can do
Oh yes, it’s true

You just sit along with alcohol
Bugs in the head flew like waterfall
Sleep along under the night birds’ song
Dream and dream but everything just comes and goes

I don’t care the sunshine anymore
I just try to close the door
I don’t need the sun to shine anymore
Push myself to ignore

What can you do if your life gets blue?
There’s nothing you can do
Oh no, what can you do?

Scream aloud in the crowd
You know what I thought
Oh God take me out

Getting high in the bed
Smoking last cigarettes
Put the gun to the head

At any rate, I chose to listen to Trip Hop because it gave me the cathartic feeling of sadness and loneliness that was so familiar to me.  I was a lonely kid growing up so listening to Trip Hop and writing poetry was like flipping through old photos of a lost love or reliving happier times that are painful to remember.  Unfortunately I used to be an arrogant poet.  I believed that if you could not say what you felt within 10 lines, then you couldn’t be a poet.  Now, almost 17 years older (and wiser) I’ve learned that to define poetry is to destroy it.  It’s nebulous, free form and is restricted only by one’s own inhibitions.  Despite this revelation, I still believe in the 10 line poem, only now I have different reasons.  Now, I believe that poetry is an attempt at capturing something intangible using horribly inadequate tools: words.  Now instead of using 10 lines in arrogance, I use them in humility.  An acknowledgement that my attempt at using ‘words’ to define emotions is doomed to fail.  There’s no way to express in words that fleeting moment when you smell the perfume/cologne of an old flame in a crowd of people, and the pang in your heart that follows.

The point in me explaining my thought process when it comes to poetry is because I feel song lyrics fall into that category.  And Trip Hop lyrics have a tendency to hit that emotional hotspot of happy sadness.  In one of my favorite Dr. Who episodes “Blink,” there’s a line the main character says when asked why she likes old things when they make her feel sad…

“It’s happy for deep people.”

I suppose that some of you will know exactly what I’m talking about after reading this.  I know two of you probably will (Smith and Tee Ags).  Others of you will probably read into the lyrics too much and think that I’m referring to the pain of lost love or some other emo crap.  I’m not.  I’m not crying over the loss of a dead butterfly or indulging in self loathing or some other stupid cliché.  I’m just an old poet who’s giving a wink and a nod to others who see the world in a different “Colour”.

Soulstice – “Colour”

I’m alone with you so far
It doesn’t matter where you are
I want to wash up on your shore
More beauty then i’ve seen before no secret lover
Will ever take the place of you

Colour me blue
As you

I want to see you yesterday
The little things in your way
It’s in your eyes i realize
The parallels of our disguise
No single other
Can understand my point of view

[Chorus]

With you now i’ve come to find
That my love for you was blind
Was it the depths of your sea
That pulled me from you
Or you from me

I want to see you yesterday
The little things in your way
Your happiness and sorrow too
They only come in shades of blue
But no other colour
Could give off quite a hue

[Chorus]

So this past Christmas, I spent it with my family.  My niece (Ang.ry) and I were talking about what movies to watch on the Netflix instant queue.  She mentioned I should watch “SLC Punk”.  So like a good uncle, I kept my promise and watched it the first chance I got, which was today.  It was a fantastic movie and if you really want to know what punk is, and what happens to us punks when we get older, then watch this movie.  More importantly, I found something.  I found that through inspiring my niece to be Punk, she’s reminded me that the new punk generation is being misled by things like Hot Topic and poser music.  And it’s up to us oldtimers to ensure that they don’t fall victim to a corporate devil in sheep’s clothing.

You see, I’m a punk, through and through.  It has nothing to do with my clothes, the music I listen to, or the number of safety pins in my ear.  It’s about purpose. And I know my purpose: To cause chaos.  I’m here to break things, screw up the system and fuck shit up.  I cause chaos because I don’t like the order we currently have.  I don’t like the current situation of things and I want to knock them down like dominos.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not an architect.  I have no plans on how to rebuild.  But you don’t go to a demolitions expert to build a new building now do you?  I simply just want to pave the way for something new (and hopefully better) to come around.  You see, there’s a problem with how we see chaos.

Generally speaking, “Order” is associated with good and “Chaos” is associated with bad.  This is because you’ve been taught to think this way.  My purpose is to break that train of thought and cram a middle finger in your face so you can feel stupid for believing in it.  The Nazi regime brought order to Germany (no matter how despicable the method).  Employment was at a national high.  The government was wealthy and had expanded its economic and political influence across Europe.  However, the chaos created by the allied nations destroyed the Nazi order and spared the world from a crazed fascist government.

Still think chaos is a bad thing?  (middle finger)

So today, we have order in America.  You get up, you go to work, get paid, go home, go to sleep and get up the next day to do it all over again.  You spend 1/3 of your life making someone else more money than they need.  And you only get to see about half the money they pay you because of taxes.  Then you put what’s left in your bank account only to have the bank take it, invest elsewhere to make even more money.  Plus charge you service fees for things like moving your money between accounts more than 5 times a month.

So this is the current order.  A few hundred people making money off of a third of your life, the payment for that time and the money you put away to sustain the other 2/3 of your life.  And people think Punks are a menace to society?  So that’s it.  I’ve had it.  I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore.  So thank you Ang.ry, for dispelling my apathy and self defeat.  As of today, I am writing a book that will cause chaos to this order.  I will break things.  I will screw up this system, and yes…I WILL fuck shit up.  I will “give it all”

Rise Against – “Give It All”

Break through the undertow, your hands I can’t seem to find.
Pollution burns my tongue, cough words I can’t speak so I
stop my struggling, then I float to the surface,
fill my lungs with air, then let it out.

I give it all ooh, now there’s a reason why I sing.
So give it all ooh, and it’s these reasons that belong to me.

Rock bottoms where we live, and still we dig these trenches,
to bury ourselves in them, backs breaking under tension.
For far too long these voices, muffled by distances,
it’s time to come to our senses, up from the dirt.

We give it all ooh, now there’s a reason why I sing.
So give it all ooh, and it’s these reasons that belong to me.

Breathe (Breathe), the air we give (give), the lives we live(live), our pulses racing distances (Breathe).
So wet my tongue (give), break into song (live), through seas of competition.

So please believe your eyes, a sacrifice,
is not what we had in our minds.
I’m coming home tonight, home tonight…

We give it all ooh, now there’s a reason why I sing.
So give it all ooh, and it’s these reasons that belong to me.

Today I offer up myself to this. I’m living for my dying wish.
I give it all ooh, now there’s a reason, there’s a reason, to give it all.

I didn’t used to be bitter, (here comes the ghost of Christmas past).  When I was a kid, I would go with my pop to find a Christmas tree and watch him set it up, trim it and count the minutes to when my sister and I could decorate it.  The house would smell like pine, my pop would throw a couple of logs on the fire and we would watch, “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer”… and eventually argue about something.  And “something” usually meaning my dad doing all the tree work while my stepmom “supervised” and pointed out the tree’s flaws to which my dad, naturally, had no control over.  Still, it was home and my favorite part of it all was sneaking out of my room after everyone had fallen asleep, turning on the tree lights, gazing at the Christmas tree, and breathing in that pine smell.

But as I grow older (welcome ghost of Christmas present) the tree turned to plastic, compliments of Costco, the TV specials air in the first week of December (WTF is up with that?!) and I am corporately obligated to attend the company Christmas party and “schmooze” with exec’s that don’t even know my name while my fellow trench diggers bury themselves in alcohol and take inappropriate pictures.  I don’t get toys anymore even though I still like them.  And all the people who don’t live in L.A. that come here to visit family, just add to the traffic of my already f’d up daily work commute.  Oh and don’t get me started on the diarrhea of advertisements and commercials for “gifts”.  It makes me want to go postal…oh and F the post office at Christmas too.

So now, I’m waiting for the ghost of Christmas future to come.  And when he does, I’m going to kick the crap out of him for all the commercials, fake Christmas foliage and Holiday company parties he didn’t tell me about when I was a kid.  Nice timing you asshat!  You’re about 20 years too late and if you tell me that Christmas is going to be even more jacked up in the future, I’m going to convert and become Jewish.  Mozeltov bitches!  And if you can feel me on this, than this one is for you.

Blink 182 “I Wont Be Home for Christmas”

Outside the carolers start to sing
I can’t describe the joy they bring
Cause joy is something they don’t bring me
My girlfriend is by my side
From the roof are hanging sickles of ice
Their whiny voices get irritating
It’s Christmas time again

So I stand with a dead smile on my face
Wondering how much of my time they’ll waste
Oh God I hate these Satan’s helpers
And then I guess I must have snapped
Because I grabbed a baseball bat
And made them all run for shelter

It’s Christmas time again
It’s time to be nice to the people you can’t stand all year
I’m growing tired of all this Christmas cheer
You people scare me
Please stay away from my home
If you don’t wanna get beat down
Just leave the presents and then leave me alone.

Well I guess it’s not cool to freak on Christmas Eve
Cause the cops came and arrested me
They had an unfair advantage
And even though the jail didn’t have a tree
Christmas came a night early
Causes a guy named Bubba unwrapped my package (hot damn)

[chorus]

I won’t be home
I won’t be home for Christmas
I won’t be home
I won’t be home for Christmas (please post my bail)

Back in 1999, for about two weeks, I had no place to live.  I refused to go back home because I was determined to show my parents that I would not fail out on my own, and I didn’t want to burden my sister for help because I knew she was in a financial pinch.  I also didn’t ask my friends for help because I was embarrassed and had already been couch surfing for a year.  I stored most of my stuff in a friend’s garage, but I carried around my pop’s old army duffel bag with all my clothes in it.  At night, I slept in the coin-op laundry mat near Hellman exit off the 10 freeway.  Now, I don’t recommend you try it unless you have no choice, but if you are ever caught in a situation where you have no place to stay, I highly recommend a coin-op laundry mat.  They are warm, well lit, there’s not on-site employee to bother you, it’s a public place, they usually have a wash sink, and you can blend in with other patrons.  I mean think about it.  If you saw someone sleeping in front of a running dryer, late at night, with a duffel bag of clothes next to them, you wouldn’t think they were homeless now would you?  Especially if they smelled like laundry detergent.

There’s nothing glamorous about retelling this memory, but I like to remember it because of what I learned from it.

Perspective.

No matter how bad I think things can get, it can always get worse.  So by that notion, things aren’t that bad are they?  By day 3, I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but then there was day 4.  By day 10, I felt silly for complaining about day 3.  By day 14, I stopped thinking things couldn’t get worse and was thankful for my ‘holiday in Cambodia’.

Dead Kennedys – “Holiday in Cambodia”

So you been to school
For a year or two
And you know you’ve seen it all
In daddy’s car
Thinkin’ you’ll go far
Back east your type don’t crawl

Play ethnicky jazz
To parade your snazz
On your five grand stereo
Braggin’ that you know
How the niggers feel cold
And the slums got so much soul

It’s time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear:

It’s a holiday in Cambodia
It’s tough, kid, but it’s life
It’s a holiday in Cambodia
Don’t forget to pack a wife

You’re a star-belly sneech
You suck like a leach
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch
So you can get rich
But your boss gets richer off you

Well you’ll work harder
With a gun in your back
For a bowl of rice a day
Slave for soldiers
Till you starve
Then your head is skewered on a stake

Now you can go where people are one
Now you can go where they get things done
What you need, my son:

Is a holiday in Cambodia
Where people dress in black
A holiday in Cambodia
Where you’ll kiss ass or crack

Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot,

And it’s a holiday in Cambodia
Where you’ll do what you’re told
A holiday in Cambodia
Where the slums got so much soul