Behind Punk


Behind Punk


Vanya, Moscow, RU. I run record label and make a zines sometimes. More hugs, less shrugs.


Scenic Pastures, nervous from your service marked invitation.
Seen it happen, a million times before.
Why do you want me to go?
Why don’t you want me to know?
Why?
Scenic Pastures, nervous from before me

Archers of Loaf - Scenic Pastures

They don’t know the power of amplifiers or the gutter is where we feel alive. They don’t know the only thing left’s to write in this heaven of the angry, young and wild

Beach Slang - Punk or Lust

Stuck a pin in your backbone.
Spoke it down from there.
All I ever wanted was to be your spine.
I’ve got a magnet in my head, a magnet in my head.
Extra thick, extra long, the way it was wasted… wasted.

Archers of Loaf - Web In Front

Reshape and erase this
Funny people, funny places
It’s boring everything is shapeless
While we’re running, running down

Everyone Everywhere - Turn & Go & Turn

 This joyride is what I’ve

always wanted to believe that we were born we were born to cruise

through the fire unscathed We were born to cruise and that’s probably

why this feels right won’t land in the same place now that I’ve seen the

purple sky

Big Kids - Dad’s Datsun

Forget the loudest love songs we sang under your attic. They always felt too quiet. We should scream until the police shriek, “Hold it down.” We’ll tell them, “Yeah, alright.” then bang the amplifiers. We’re not violent. We’re just some dumb kids getting wasted and knowing we’re alive. There is anger, but it is just. It is power. The kids are still alright. We’re just too high to fight. And it’s brave to be polite and to wear fake leather. So, I carved your name in mine and I thought all about how we stumble around until gravity sleeps and you slip and fall into me.

Beach Slang - Kids

I’m a slave to always fucking up. It’s not okay, but maybe it’s enough. Kids like us are weird, and more, we’re brave. We tie our tongues and turn them into rage. And the night’s still young. And we’re dumb enough to fall. Carve your name soft across my lungs. I want to breathe you until I’m numb. We’re not loved, well, hardly, anyway, with filthy luck in such a filthy haze. But the night’s still young. And we’re dumb enough to fall. Turn the amps up to nine. I don’t want it too loud. I gave you taste and a spine, now I hope you drown. Is there a lie in the lights or the shine of this town? This guitar wants to die.

Beach Slang - Filthy Luck

If I made it a lie would you forgive me?
I made it a lie. Would you forgive me?
Who do you think you are?
I find it so easy. Oh, you make it so hard
Who do you think you are?
The only thing worse, to be alone

Wild Ones - Curse Over Me

levantineviper:

From As We Were Flying On A Rocket, a Soviet children’s book by V. Gortinsky from 1963. 

I won’t leave indentions on me, I won’t leave intentionally.