Anoyther day passes as we grow older it seems to me that 
one day this may be over. Cause life seems to furiosly 
pull away at me beckoning with money and maturity. But 
I'm not deterred this is my place and this is where I'll 
stay. I'll stay. Try and take it away from me and I will 
swing till my knuckles bleed. It's all been done before 
everything is so old. My ideals are merely romanticized 
dreams so I'm told. I clutch to what I believe but the 
opposition is crushing it seems impossible to not 
nothing. It's hard to escape the sentiment my voice means 
nothing. Everyday I stare the same dillemma in the face 
every path in front of me is thread barren. Marginalized 
and minimized I won't lose my grit. Disillusioned and 
disenfranchised still I resist. Give me one ounce of 
something worth fighting for and I will scratch and claw 
until my fingers are no more. This is where I stand in my 
place where I'll stay. Try to take it away and I will 
swing until my knuckles bleed.