Infinite Cycle (The Scene's a Jigsaw Puzzle and the Pieces Don't Fit)

A bathroom stall is trashed
A window pane is smashed
An all ages venue lost
Condemned to the past
The crowd they dance
And raise their fists
Reciting angry lyrics
As if they're pissed
But it's just the punk rock game
And they all know the script
Of idle gossip, talking shit
Waxing general and not specific
But all their faux sincerity
Results in much hilarity
When they ebb and surge for clarity
And try to justify the roles they poorly play