Tuesday, February 8, 2011
what this means
I'm held hostage by my own greedy hands. Caught between my goals and dreams and what the cost of living demands. I'll kick. I'll scream. Fight till my dying day. To stay true to me and raise my finger to the adult way. Cause I don't ever want to let my life be run by the things I buy. I want to live for these songs, this smile. Till the day I fucking die. Go. I have a song and it has a meaning. I have a dream and it's just beginning. The people on this stage. The people in the crowd. The reasons behind our voices screaming this loud. Like the blazing sun on a winter's day. The treasure in the tomb of this city called decay. These words give me purpose. This song breathes my life. This is my reason. This is my life. And now I'm sick and now I'm tired of all the shit that comes with growing up. So I'll plant my feet right here. Hearts bound to this hardcore sound. Standing on the edge of the rest of our lives. We were eighteen once before we all died. We were eighteen once with a reason to live. We were reading and writing and dying to give. Changing ourselves and changing the world. Waking up so we could love a girl. Or sing along to the words in a song. Or pen the lyrics to a love gone wrong. We were eighteen once with a reason to live. Vowing never in our lives to turn our backs on this. This won't die.