Punk In London

PUNK IN LONDON

two lads. one band. no fuckin’ future.

Chris plays bass like it’s the only thing keepin’ him breathing.
Ryan’s got a guitar, a busted lip, and eyes full of ghosts.

They don’t talk about shit.
Not the past. Not the bruises. Not the stuff that twists up your chest at 2am.

But they’ve got noise.
And rage.
And each other — kind of.

This ain’t some shiny coming-of-age story.
It’s squat floors, fag ash, feedback, and found family.
It’s queer love in the ruins of a city that never gave a fuck.

Make noise. Break rules. Don’t look back.