"Call us fags and call us phonies..."
Lyrics spit out with a sneer and a promise. Never pretty sounding ('just meetings and functions and social corruptionnn'). But always compelling ('we make the ginamone'). Catchy. Crass. Cocky. A celebration. Of panic and pain. Purity and longing. Loneliness...served up with guitar and drum.
No Way Out...indeed.