Judgment Day With Henry Smith

It's judgment day with Henry Smith He's sick of all your music You've gotta stop that reggae drop His radio's polluted It's judgment day, he's sick of it! Those Gothic pale faces Those people think they own themselves! He'll put them in their places! And poets with your gangster rap Reform your tilted hats! You speak your mind and Henry smith Has had enough of that! You punk rockers, he's had ENOUGH! Change up those things you wear It isn't right! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! To smile and spike your hair But judgment day, it came and went... Good gracious me! What luck! Henry Smith, he said his piece, And no one gave a >>>> By Kyle Ezra Kriticos Author's note: This poem isn't about anyone in particular, in fact I only used the name Henry Smith because it's common!