CORRECTAR LA LETRA
Letra : Underdog Interlude - Ashido Brown (Unborn Hero)
We weren't the only kids who grew up this way
To this day, kids are still being called names
The classics were "Hey, stupid," "Hey, spaz."
Seems like every school has an arsenal of names
Getting updated every year
And if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear Do they make a sound?
Are they just background noise from a soundtrack stuck on repeat
When people say things like, "Kids can be cruel."
Every school was a big top circus tent, and the pecking order Went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies
All of these miles ahead of who we were
We were freaks -- lobster-claw boys and bearded ladies
Oddities juggling depression and loneliness, playing solitaire
Spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves
And heal, but at night, while the others slept
We kept walking the tightrope. It was practice
And yes, some of us fell
But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris
Left over when we finally decide to smash
All the things we thought we used to be
And if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
Get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer
Because there's something inside you
That made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself "They were wrong" Because maybe you didn't belong to a group Or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball
Or everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises
And broken teeth to show-and-tell, but never told
Because how can you hold your ground
If everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it?
You have to believe that they were wrong
They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be here?
We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
Because we see ourselves in them
We stem from a root planted in the belief
That we are not what we were called
We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty
On some highway, and if in some way we are, don’t worry
We only got out to walk and get gas
We are graduating members from the class of We Made It
Not the faded echoes of voices crying out
"Names will never hurt me." Of course they did
But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty
To this day, kids are still being called names
The classics were "Hey, stupid," "Hey, spaz."
Seems like every school has an arsenal of names
Getting updated every year
And if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear Do they make a sound?
Are they just background noise from a soundtrack stuck on repeat
When people say things like, "Kids can be cruel."
Every school was a big top circus tent, and the pecking order Went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies
All of these miles ahead of who we were
We were freaks -- lobster-claw boys and bearded ladies
Oddities juggling depression and loneliness, playing solitaire
Spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves
And heal, but at night, while the others slept
We kept walking the tightrope. It was practice
And yes, some of us fell
But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris
Left over when we finally decide to smash
All the things we thought we used to be
And if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
Get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer
Because there's something inside you
That made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself "They were wrong" Because maybe you didn't belong to a group Or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball
Or everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises
And broken teeth to show-and-tell, but never told
Because how can you hold your ground
If everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it?
You have to believe that they were wrong
They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be here?
We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
Because we see ourselves in them
We stem from a root planted in the belief
That we are not what we were called
We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty
On some highway, and if in some way we are, don’t worry
We only got out to walk and get gas
We are graduating members from the class of We Made It
Not the faded echoes of voices crying out
"Names will never hurt me." Of course they did
But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty
