To the models on runways, ribs protruding, who walk the plank to only stop, pose, and turn away, remember, it's survival of the fittest,

To that cancer patient, who's dream is to someday regain the everyday feeling of their own hair against their warm hand, remember, it's survival of the fittest,

To the back alley junkies, who are stuck in the closing hole of their own personal hell, arms stretched, hands open, screaming for help, remember, it's survival of the fittest,

To the rural women of the world, who know someday they will leave and find dreams in the big city, only to miss their home more than ever, remember, it's survival of the fittest,

To the mom's working two jobs, plus graveyard shifts, just to put food on the table and keep the lights on, remember, it's survival of the fittest,

They put us in different boxes, daring us to break out, daring us to stand up, daring us to do something about it!

But to the boy who's running from his fears just so that he can chase his dreams, remember Booboo, it's survival of the fittest...

Crush is a word I’ve never fully grasped,
Crushes are just fleeting brushstrokes across the canvas that we call life,
Because in life, I bet, you’ll remember the one’s you love, over the crushes
But you can be crushed by someone you love, and yet loved by your crush,
Cause you could put, your blood, sweat, tears, heart, soul into someone you love,

But what if they say that it isn’t enough?

That’s when the doubt creeps in,
Through every little crack that you body has,
It slowly moves in like the poison of a snake,
With the sole purpose of breaking you down until you are nothing,

Until you’re just the shell of the person that you once were,
You feel nothing, except pain, and doubt, and you think of every bad scenario that could be occurring, is really happening,
Bridges fall, love fades, but I was always told, that we live and learn,

Life moves on,

People come and go,

And eventually, you meet someone who is willing to **** that poison out,
Someone who tries so hard to bring the life back into you,
Someone who takes the shell you are in, and fills that **** with love,
Someone who will sing with you, laugh with you, cry with you, and dance with you,
Dance with you, like you have cancer, and the cure is to do the jitterbug,
Sing with you, like you have a broken leg, and the only cast, is Michael Jackson,
Laugh with you, like those inside jokes you had in high school, were relief to the common cold,
Cry with you, like the Notebook is your own personal diary,

I’m searching for someone that I can spend eternity with,
But maybe I’m searching too hard,
Maybe they were here all along,