He comes

Mohawk standing at attention

Protected by spiked, leather armor

To save the world from skinheads, and secular music

Fighting the forces of capitalism, and consumerism

With "Oi Oi" as his battle cry

The music moves him,

While beer and nicotine fuel him.

He proudly wears tattoos, and scars from his past battles

Saying "Fuck the world!"

He doesn't care for your judgments,

Anymore than he cares for me

But he pulls me along anyway

To the beat of his drum,

My punk rock hero.