subculture [Theme]

They stood at intersections, crowded under the street lamps, angular, smoky, leaving on the sidewalks placer spitting, cigarette butts and pieces of paper from sweets. Nervous and deliberately melancholy. Thirsty, constantly looking around, stooped. They badly wanted to be like the rest of the world and at the same time, assiduously imitated each other and two or three movie stars.

But I think to wear the clothes is something else than what you have in mind.

Yes, drunk and disorderly. We want it or not, the blueprint thanks
You all protest brought to the subcultures flawed and ugly!

Gullible Teens are adults
I realized it all too late...
Only after he shouted once: "Punk's not dead!"
I don't want to deceive you, white children
There is no culture, there is no One Love.
It's business on the hormonal explosion of young heads.

- What is the girl in the window!
- Fuck, it's emo, so look thousand guys.

... Have you noticed that somewhere happened to all subcultures? Where emo where the Goths, where the punks who vomit more often than they blink? Where are the skinheads? Where are they? They're all gone. It is clear that emo is ready and the purpose of creation was to disappear. Punks, apparently died of the plague. Found it somewhere on the Old Arbat. But where were the skinheads? These bald dudes with big boots? <...> I think to replace all those city cultures came people with scooters. When I see a guy with a scooter, I want to approach him and ask: "Boy, where are your parents? Don't you know the rule that if at some moment of life you comes six, not necessarily to ride a scooter!"

I know that the weekend of our anniversary, but maybe you shouldn't leave her alone? She looks so sad...
- She's emo, they like to be sad.

So, I remember, in Soviet times,
In the latest seizure, in the senseless rattle,
To deal took with people all
And the main danger became a hippie.
They population meant well after all,
no one saw harmless folk,
but it was in the country, nothing to fix,
But it was necessary though something to fight for!
Here and today: and the rating went up
And cash flow, and silent congregation,
And more the country will never take:
Everything is either pointless or dangerous.
On the background of chocolate cream
We are media fed to vomit, -
Left alone rebellious emo
Yes, in a black leather-clad Goths.

We were friends, but we weren't a band in the literal sense of the word. Already at that time many people were involved in this subculture. In the bars was about homosexuals, addicts, artists, lovers of marijuana and poetry, and it was all in the old Bohemian traditions... do You understand what "La Boheme"?

Nigel on the weekends, dresses like a punk. His mother does not object, provided that under the black shirt he will wear knitted vest.

When I see a goth on the street, I don't see it as goth. I see two disappointed parents.

I always thought that punk is the one who rides on it scored.

They're all so young, thought the Spirit, feeling their pain and elation, their naive stupidity, their beauty and fear. They are so young. They go to their expensive jewelry, slastnykh of the stores, in their torn jeans, his black robes as a sign of belonging to some secret society. The society, which are open to only those who are always intoxicated: cheap alcohol, rainy midnight, sex, or poetry. Those who love obscure bands that make real music; those who goes until four in the morning and is afraid to fall asleep, his chest filling with fear and dreadful dreams.

That you have nurse powder stybril to the cemetery for a beer doesn't make you more real Dark. Darkness must be the goth in the shower, not in jewelry. You're a jerk even to serve as our black-eyed mistress of death.