This is an anthem for the homesick, for the beaten,
The lost, the broke, the defeated.
A song for the heartsick, for the standbys,
Living life in the shadow of a goodbye.

Do you remember when we learned how to fly?
We'd play make-believe; we were young and had time on our side.
You're stuck on the ground,
Got lost, can't be found.
Just remember that you're still alive.

I'll carry you home.
No, you're not alone.
Keep marching on,
This is worth fighting for,
You know we've all got battle scars.
You've had enough,
But just don't give up.
Stick to your guns,
You are worth fighting for.
You know we've all got battle scars.
Keep marching on.

This is a call to the soldiers, the fighters,
The young, the innocent, and righteous.
We've got a little room to grow.
Better days are near,
Hope is so much stronger than fear.

So if you jump, kid, don't be scared to fall.
We'll be kings and queens in this dream, all for one, one for all.
You can light up the dark,
There's a fire in your heart,
Burning brighter than ever before.

I'll carry you home.
No, you're not alone.
Keep marching on,
This is worth fighting for,
You know we've all got battle scars.
You've had enough,
But just don't give up.
Stick to your guns,
You are worth fighting for.
You know we've all got battle scars.
Keep marching on.

On and on, like we're living on a broken record.
Hope is strong, but misery's a little quicker.
Sit, and we wait, and we drown there,
Thinking, "Why bother playing when it's unfair?"
They say life's a waste, I say they lack belief.
They tell me luck will travel, I tell 'em that's why I've got feet.
Left, right, left, right,
Moving along to the pulse of a heartbeat.
This could be the last chance you have to fly.
Do you like the ground? Want it to pass you by?
Man, you had it all when you were just a kid.
Do you even remember who you were back then?
What do you want in life? Will you be twice as strong?
What would you sacrifice? What are you waiting on?
Don't stop, march on.

I'll carry you home.
No, you're not alone.
Keep marching on,
This is worth fighting for,
You know we've all got battle scars.
You've had enough,
But just don't give up.
Stick to your guns,
You are worth fighting for.
You know we've all got battle scars.
Keep marching on.

Oh-ohhhh-oh-ohhhh
Oh-ohhhh-oh-ohhhh
Oh-ohhhh-oh-ohhhh-ohhhhh­

Oh-ohhhh-oh-ohhhh
Oh-ohhhh-oh-ohhhh
Oh-ohhhh-oh-ohhhh-ohhhhh

K­eep marching on.

To This Day by Shane Koyczan
To This Day
When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favourite
she let me keep doing it

not really a big deal

one day
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
and bruised the right side of my body

I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I’d get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been

a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
and I got sent to the principal’s office
from there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie
as far as I was concerned
life was pretty good
I told her “whenever I’m sad
my grandmother gives me karate chops”

this led to a full scale investigation
and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
and I earned my first nickname

pork chop

to this day
I hate pork chops

I’m not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we’d be lonely forever
that we’d never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
that there’s no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop get bombarded by spit *****
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we’d have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog

to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn’t think she’s beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn’t quite get the job done
and they’ll never understand
that she’s raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she’s only ever always been amazing

he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphills were mountains
and the downhills were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to **** himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

to this day
he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
in the moments before it’s about to fall
and despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can’t understand
sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
and more to do with sanity

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 each 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 the background noise
of 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 were 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 yeah
some of us fell

but I want to tell them
that all of this ****
is just debris
leftover 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
you signed it
“they were wrong”
because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click
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 a 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.

I'd be lying if I said I never thought of dying alone
But I'm so vulnerable to just about everyone
And only one friend knows me
I sigh When another year is over
Where I've so little to account for
Oh what happened to the days of being happy?

If I told you what I'm feeling
Do you promise me you'll stay?

When we were little
Did you think you would be
Living in the middle
With someone like me
I will not care for myself
I can not care for myself

I'll try to be a little bit stronger
'Cause if I'm waiting any longer
There'll be no souls beside me
Be mine; I will appreciate your beauty
Doubt you'll ever even Knew Me
Oh I just want to make you happy

If I told you what I'm feeling
Do you promise me you'll stay?

When we were little
Did you think you would be
Living in the middle
With someone like me
I will not care for myself
I can not care for myself

I will be just so much better
I will love you so much more
I can not help myself
I can not help myself
I will not help myself
I will not help myself

When we were little
Did you think you would be
Living in the middle
With someone like me
I will not care for myself
I can not care for myself

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase


When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face—it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice—it chased away all the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase



I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along



...me, me, me.

Don't Kick me
But lets  Go Go Go
It may not be  Gold
But could you  Save Me A Spark
If not, i'll just have to  Fly
Because of this, we are  The Strays
We're  Left Alone
Maybe we're  Better Off Dead
In all honesty, We Like It Loud
It's only  November
This may be  Madness
But  *Don't Say Anything