All right, here we go, one, two, three, four. Our Generations, full of haters, wanna be’s and excommunicators. Racism and sexism at large yet, all we wanna do is get our very own scars. We say we are rebels, hipsters, and Goths, yet all we are is teens at odds. We are voices, we get stronger, with just ten us we would be one hell of a monster. We all grow up and we all get old sometime we have to face just what we know. The war exists I’m sure you’ve been told of the mother @#%^ing ***holes you’ve never be hold. Art is a way to break your chains express yourself and try to scream. We have our passions and hidden dreams yet we pass on by like they just little things. You say you fighting for, fighting for, something more. Well let me just ask you where does it all go? We are voices, we get stronger, with just ten us we would be one hell of a monster. We could change the world with one singular breath one other brother wouldn’t have to die with one in the chest. We are voices, we get stronger, with just ten us we would be one hell of a monster.