My body is broken But doesn't really matter How badly beat up I get My soul still wants To pick a fight
I guess us fighters Are just made like that We never really know When and how to quit We're too **** tough For our own good
We just want that fire So we keep pushing On and forward Forward and on
A repost of a piece that I wrote last september, while trying to shake myself off a depressive episode... couldn't be more appropriate: I'm fighting really hard right now.