The Living End

There's a kid who was born and was raised in the west
There's a kid from the east who never really fit in with the rest
Every week they would meet in the street with their friends
With the guns that they made and the caps that they stole
they would fight to their death
This time we'll have victory
Last time ended in a defeat
Our town becomes a battleground
West End Riot
We'll be here next Saturday
With our guns and our heads held high
So listen up boys, you'd better not cry this time
See a bum on the street that you think you recognise