They expect you to be less than what you are,

Less than what they see;

But you have a little beam of light in the darkness,

And say they’ll never be another me;

You are told you’ll never amount to anything,

You’ll never be worth it;

Your love is worthless, like a rose blooming in the scorching sun,

It’s a joke in a circus;

 

You’re not supposed to know your father,

Be successful or clever;

You’re supposed to be a monster drowning in rage,

A brick that has fallen on a feather;

The feather represents your passion, drive, and future,

And the brick is the deception that you can’t get past because you are weak, and a loser

 

You will never be a millionaire, never make it too far

They’ll make you think it’s too hard to become more than a burning out star;

There’s way more to you then people could ever understand,

Show them that you can be on the Forbes list without a helping hand;

Make your way down the road of sorrow and hate,

Make them see you as a bright burning light,

That never goes out of date.

 

You are filled with a broken spirit, filled with doubtful hope;

You could never even dream of happiness,

Because it slips through your hands like a slick rope;

Your family and friends don’t understand the struggles and the pain,

They overlook your troubles, because they don’t want the extra weight and strain;

But don’t give in prosper young king prosper,

Their lies and hate are only building a bigger monster.