The Song Fight Bulletin Board

Golfpunk Rides Again
caravan ray

Golfpunk drives a cadillac
120 mph
Accelerator, accelerator
Don't dance
Run free
Dad, I'm changing
Skyline highway
I LOVE YOU

I can see you do it for the Captain
Listen closely, that's the spirit
Stronger than yellow lasers
Come out fighting, level best
Shreds so long, Atticus
Let's get naked, this is killing me
Totally digging your Mum

Golfpunk drives a cadillac
Golfpunk rides again
120 mph
Accelerator

Golfpunk Rides Again
by Lichen Throat

Golfpunk rides again. (x4)
I joined the golf team in ninth grade—
Worst choice that I ever made.
I never wanted to practice;
I never was any good.
The middle-aged guys attacked us—
With words, not irons and woods.

Golf is just a dumb excuse to drink,
Acting like a fool out on the links.
Pour your scotch and soda down the sink.

Golfpunk rides again. (x4)
I never shot in the eighties,
And golfers aren’t magnets for ladies.
Hundreds of dollars to Titleist,
Thousands of dollars to Ping.
Calluses and tendinitis,
But I never won anything.

Golfpunk rides again. (x4)
Bring out the blue, green, and red balls;
Build me some fake waterfalls.
Let’s putt through windmills and igloos;
Astroturf makes the best lawn.
Close Pebble Beach and St. Andrews;
Don’t stop until they’re all gone.

Golfpunk Rides Again - Brown Word and the Big Whine

Daddy's money has run out
I had to sell the car
Not welcome at the country club
Though I golf under par

Can't afford to pay my caddy
I golf all alone
My only fairway is the muni
The muni, the muni

How the mighty fall

But golfpunk rides again my friend
I have a BMX
Golf punk rides again my mates
I'm gonna give 'em heck
I'll take my tips from Friday night
I'm gonna rent a cart
And fill it with my rowdy friends
Smash the system one hole at a time

Patches on my Castore shirt
Goodwill cleats and bag
Pull me up by my own bootstraps
What my daddy said

Now daddy's money has run out
The Cadillac is sold
No hitting on the cart girl
At the muni's BYOB

How the mighty fall

But golfpunk rides again my friend
I have a BMX
Golf punk rides again my mates
I'm gonna give 'em heck
I'll take my tips from Friday night
I'm gonna rent a cart
And fill it with my rowdy friends
Smash the system one hole at a time

Don't have no boss
I golf for me
Nobody tells me what to do on the links
It's total freedom from oppression
I have the sky above me
Manicured green below
Just me and the ball in a collision of wills
I know you'll never understand

But golfpunk rides again my friend
I have a BMX
Golf punk rides again my mates
I'm gonna give 'em heck
I'll take my tips from Friday night
I'm gonna rent a cart
And fill it with my rowdy friends
Smash the system one hole at a time

I threw back about three shots
Threw up in the tee box
Put on my
old Ramones t shirt
And now I’m ready to play

I’m out on the fairway
But I won’t do it their way
The new me is gone and
The old me is back to stay

I’m a punk and I know it
And it’s high time I show it

Twenty years dodging land mines
Twenty years toeing the line
Closing big deals and
Telling myself that I changed

It ate away at me every day
And what would Henry Rollins say?
So I’m back to leave all my frustrations
Out on the range

I’m a punk and I know it
And it’s high time I show it

I drove a Cadillac
With Nick and Graham
And Drew and Jon
And Cunningham
But now I ride
Alone and free
Singing “I wanna be Anarchy”

I crashed my cart on a side road
Screw you and your dress code
I’ll be passed out blacked out drunk
Somewhere on the back nine

I’m a punk and I know it
I’m a punk and I know it
I’m a punk and I know it
And it’s high time I show it

Golfpunk Rides Again
by Pigfarmer Jr

I wasn't around when the vote went down
Back in the year 2k
But I think Collin must have been robbed
And that just ain't okay

I've got nothing against Graham Parker
his song was all right
But Collin hit the ball right out of the park
I could listen to him all night

I never met Collin Cunningham
But I think he was robbed
There's no doubt he's gonna win
If Golfpunk rides again

I wonder if Jon, Nick and Drew
Would change their votes with me
Twenty years later it's hard to predict
If they will or won't agree

Makes me think about the change in music
How tastes evolve through time
But I like to think that good is good
And Collin is a favorite of mine

I never met Collin Cunningham
But I think he was robbed
There's no doubt he's gonna win
If Golfpunk rides again
There's no doubt he's gonna win
If Golfpunk rides again

20 years ago I knew this guy, you probably know the type. His name was Gary or Greg or something, but everyone knew him as Golfpunk. His whole thing was breaking in windows of expensive cars using a golf club to protest the wealth gap or... somethin' like that.

Anyway, he called himself a performance artist, and some rich dude decided it would be funny to give him a Cadillac to drive around, you know, "ironically?" Golfpunk, he changed, man... He changed.

(Golfpunk, he drives a Cadillac)

Now that he had a Cadillac of his own he suddenly felt a lot of empathy for the other Cadillac owners and stopped smashing windows. He wanted to smash things, though, so... he took his golf club to the golf course and... he started playing.

You know, golf.

The rich peoples' sport.

And he was good at it.

(Golfpunk, he drives a nine iron)

He ended up entering into a tournament and won a lot of money, but then his past caught up with him and all these rich assholes, like, sued him for the windows he broke. And then he had to go on a big ol' apology tour, 'cause it's not like he hurt anyone or said anything racist, but God forbid some windows get smashed up.

Anyway, we all kind of lost track of him for a long time, but then a few weeks ago he reached out to me and was like, "Hey, remember me?" And I was like, "Hey, I remember you! Man, Golfpunk! It's been a long heckin' time." Then he kinda went silent.

And then he says to me, "So, um, I'm not Golfpunk anymore. I got married, settled down, had kids... now I'm more of a... golf dad."

And I was like, "Oh. Huh. Weird."

And then he said the most offensive thing to me ever:

"And now I drive a Prius."

(Golfpunk, he drove a Cadillac)

Anyway, I guess the moral of the story is it's okay to grow up sometimes, and maybe you're going to grow apart too. And that's alright too.

Just don't become an asshole.

Phlebia feat Sweeney Toad

It’s a Monday and I’m off, a Lovely day for golf
I keep losing golf balls and it’s somebody’s fault
Somebody ought to be keeping track
Tiny webbed feet leading back

Hoard hard scorecards in loose stacks
Balls for yards are these goose tracks?
Who’s dat slanging balls out dude’s trunk?
A bird with a mohawk oh what it’s goosepunk!

GOOSEPUUUUUUUNNNNKKKKK

Hear the goose honk off in the distance
Fear the goose taunt I want the resistance
Can’t let this fowl get the best of me
He may have my balls not the rest of me

I am a man, he is mere bird
I slip and fall on a smeared turd
The goose poop has besmirched me again
The goose grabs my balls and flees to his den

Canada's known for more than mooses
Douglas firs and Sitka spruces
Apple, grape and berry juices
They export golf ball stealing gooses
Droppin deuces from the airway
The sound of the honking turns my hair gray
Gutterpunk waterfowl in the fairway
Leftover crack instead of Green Day

(Chorus)
I think
This game is going nowhere
It gets under my skin
My golfball's always AWOL
My patience wearing thin
Distraction on my backswing
I'm never going to win
And I know it's not my caddy's fault
The golfpunk strikes again

Who's that messing up all my golf swings
It's the goose punk and his seven goslings
Decked out head to toe in PING
With my stolen tees tucked under his wing
Who's that jacking all my swag
His face beak deep in my club bag?
You better watch out when those feathers wag
Didn't these links used to have pin flags?
Hook into the sand trap, irritation
Slice into the water, irrigation
Waterfowl induced frustration
Goosepunk giving me palpitations
Grab my nine iron swing and a miss
My caddy tells me something's amiss
Keep playing like this I'll never win this
Branta motherfuckin canadensis


He’s back on attack annoying as ever
I’ll get the last laugh destroying his feathers
Enjoying the weather then he ruined my birdie
Not stoked with my strokes he’s doing me dirty

Dude we are 40 too old for this damn shit
Dude I am worried we’ll be stuck in this sand pit
The goose is loose what the deuce
A real life game of duck duck goose

I think
This game is going nowhere
It gets under my skin
My golfball's always AWOL
My patience wearing thin
Distraction on my backswing
I'm never going to win
And I know it's not my caddy's fault
The golfpunk strikes again

GOOSEPUNK!
GOOSEPUNK!

Golfpunk Hits the Skids
by WreckdoM

Now this here story's all about The Golfpunk,
He was always stinking drunk in that mohawk.
Spent his days in the country club parking lot
Where he'd hustle anybody gullible enough.
Now, I don't know golf but I know somehow you bet on it,
And to see and smell that Golfpunk, you wouldn't think
That balls that sailed from his T always hit the green,
And any wager he was collecting.
But The Golfpunk didn't simply want to win,
He hated those bougie boys and rubbed it in.
He'd laugh and cuss and drink on every link,
and than he'd take a piss upon their cleats.

Anarchy at the Isle Dauphine!
Anarchy at the Isle Dauphine!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Anarchy at the Isle Dauphine!

Well sometimes things'd get a little out of hand.
They'd find a totalled golfcart in the sand.
There'd be beer bottles and crackpipes strewn about,
The occasional fire or a pack of wild dogs.
So they invited The Golfpunk to a tournament,
And every Troy and Chad he'd ever robbed was on the list.
They smiled at every hole in one he sinked,
and tolerated all the vulgar embarrassment.
And when he won, they just handed him a plaque.
All it said was "Hey asshole, watch your back"
Then they bashed his brains in with their clubs
And bathed their precious greens in his stinking blood.

Anarchy at the Isle Dauphine!
Anarchy at the Isle Dauphine!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Anarchy at the Isle Dauphine!

Ken's Super Duper Band 'n Stuff

Intro
Em A B7 B7

Em A
He’s at home on the range
He’s a genius on the green
Pour another round
Tee one up again

D A G-D- A
Let’s go for a ride, let’s go for a ride
Golfpunk rides again
D A G-D- A
Let’s go for a ride, let’s go for a ride
Golfpunk rides again
G-D- A
Golfpunk rides again

Intro

Down another shot
We’re closing down this bar
He’s got plenty of clubs
He’s a karaoke star

Chorus

Bridge - D D A A
He’s been a punk for a while
He changed his look but not his style

B7

He’s at home on the range
He’s a genius on the green
Holding court in the club
As the king of the golfpunk scene

Chorus

Elongated line
G D B7 B7

End on Em

What a terrible waste of time
Not my idea of fun
Let’s abandon the back nine
Now the rain’s begun to fall

A long walk that’s been spoiled
As Mr Twain described
I don’t mean to be disloyal
But I think he got it right

And I won’t pretend to be upset
So long, til golfpunk rides again
Oh yeah, til golfpunk rides again

Following a little ball
In your electric car
Doesn’t make a lot of sense at all
When you don’t hit it that far

Think I’d rather get my kicks
Swinging a cricket bat
Than picking up a bag of sticks
And having a handicap

You know I don’t think I’ll be missing much
So long, til golfpunk rides again
Oh yeah, til golfpunk rides again

Now I am out of bounds
Of the members lounge
I’m free again once more