| I feel a weight thats pulling me down,
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| But my reflex is to try to break out,
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| Nature gives fight or flight syndrome,
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| But my feet stay on the ground thats how Ive grown,
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| Bred to resist the gravity of anything thats fucking with me,
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| Survivalist instincts through my veins are pounding,
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| Transfused at birth by my urban surroundings.
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| Gravity wont allow me to fly,
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| It pulls me down, the pain, I wont cry,
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| Resistance and drive fueled by hunger,
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| What doesnt kill me makes me stronger.
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| I just cant let shit get to me,
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| Got to reflect back on what pop taught me,
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| To be your own man no matter what,
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| To never back down, and follow your gut,
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| Instinct, something he said that Id know,
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| Something that Id carry wherever I go,
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| He told me someday Id have to fight to be free,
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| And resist the weight of gravity.
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| Calloused hands wipe away tears,
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| Of the pain of a man broken by years,
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| A silent shot that nobody hears,
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| A smoking gun of our own fears,
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| My father worked all his life and for what,
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| Day in, day out, caught in a rut,
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| The pain of apathy, razor-sharp cutting,
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| But Ill make sure he doesnt die for nothing. |