BORN FROM THE STREETS OF EAST LONDON,

GOTH PUNK IS VIOLENCE MADE FLESH.

HE DOES NOT FIGHT FOR CAUSE OR PURPOSE.

HE KILLS FOR THE THRILL.

CHAOS IS HIS CREED, AND TRE IS ITS KEEPER.

HIS CREED IS CARVED IN SCAR AND INK.

EACH JAGGED LINE, A HYMN TO ANARCHY.

WITH A RAZOR GRIN AND BLOODIED FISTS,

HE HUNTS LIKE A WOUNDED DOG—

LAUGHING AS IT BITES.

WHERE THE BATTLEFIELD DEMANDS ORDER,

HE BRINGS MADNESS.

WHERE SHADOWS DEMAND SILENCE,

HE ANSWERS WITH SCREAMS.

HE IS NO SOLDIER.

HE IS NO ASSASSIN.

HE IS THE ORDER’S RAZOR—

A BLADE OF CHAOS THAT CUTS DEEPER THAN STEEL.

HE DOES NOT PLAN.

HE DOES NOT HESITATE.

HE CUTS.

AND THE WORLD BLEEDS.