You’ll find us in the sweat
You’ll find us in the speakers
You’ll find us in the shaking walls
You’ll find us in the cracks of the street
With the uprising moss
Fists raised aloft
Because we know what not doing this costs
It’s in any squat
Pub back room
And on any rooftop we got

This our spot
Our place to stand
Our line in the sand
Etched with grins
And ear drum shattering dins
This is loud
Because it’s gotta match every “Ya Basta!”
And every time someone clutches a mic
In their nervous sweaty palm
It helps us move on that little bit faster
We’re not plastering over cracks
We’re creating space between the gaps
Because too many songs, books, poems and raps
Just scratch and sniff the surface
So this is the shout of the seething surplus
The sound of needing purpose
The finger to the promoters
Who try to make us jump through hoops
Looping us a noose
Confusing and losing us
Hanging price tags off words and sounds

But fuck that

This has been around since the dawn of authority
Since the birth of commodity
It’s survived censorship
Execution
Nuclear bombs
Wars
Genocide
It’s survived and made history
So fucking move aside
You reckon a little bit of money is gonna stop this tide?
This is stronger than you’ll never believe
A bullied kid wiping his nose on his sleeve
Preparing his shield
For when the big kids come calling
It’s the dust clearing after Goliath’s falling
It’s the lure of the siren
The drug stash of Lord Byron
The broken people climbing
The throat of a lion
Flaming semaphore frantically signing

Between the gaps
Is where the geeks take over

Between the gaps
Somewhere in the middle of being pissed and sober

Between the gaps
We try and take it back to the start

And I’m humbled and overjoyed
That I play my part