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Fashion
They think it's just a fashion
They think it's just a game
Fashion is just people playing
They are fashion, fashion is the same
Why because his boots
Weren't made of leather
Why because his jacket
Doesn't smell of flesh
Why because his meals
Aren't made of murder
Why because his music
Isn't the best
Just another wasted journey
In a world that does not care
Through a jungle bred of hatred
Through a head of matted hair
The reliquary fermenting
The belief it cannot die
We are left alone in silence
We are left alone to die
Fashion has not any reason
Than to exploit those who don't care
They may try to change our reason
But the belief will always be there
And when the party is over
The fashion melts back to its grave
The belief is left to crumble
The master then will beat the slave
If they say that we are dying
Well then my friend
They are not wrong
For what they see is
The death of their fashion
But not the end of
Something so strong
We will not fight them
For a fashion
We will not fight them
For a trend
We will not fight them
With their violence
But we will fight them
To the end
© MOTH 1983
Penned in a trendy pub/bar in Bath surrounded by goths in December 1983. Some of what we were campaigning for is now adopted. Some is only half-