Punk Ain’t Chains

You can’t be punk and wear the chain,

Of hate, of fear, of bloodstained names.

You scream “¡Revolución !”—pero, tell me why,

You shut out those who dare to fly?

Mira cabron, punk is bomba’s beat,

It’s hands that build, not hands that beat.

It’s fighting back, it’s tearing down,

Not forcing others to the ground.

We know the weight of botas that press,

Of flags that choke, of laws that bless—

The ones who steal, the ones who kill,

And call their power “God’s own will.”

You can’t wear spikes and chant “¡Resiste!”

While turning queer folk to your fist.

You can’t cry “¡Libertad!” in the street,

Yet fear the truth that love can speak.

Punk is struggle, punk is fight,

Punk is making wrongs go right.

If your hands build walls, not bridges wide,

Then punk don’t want you on its side.

S Maldonado