Partially raised by outside, I looked up to people Who lived through, what I lived around. Who would have thought that Concrete made for the best top-soil or was it the ROSE with enough strength to push through... Even in the hardest circumstance Beacons of hope still bloom... I cant shake this feeling The missions seem so endless, We ask God what's the purpose, When we losing all his children... Somehow, I know that I'm living for Even that which was not given, From a city, where its grimy But it's pretty. Where it's Cold, but its litty. And where "people" will do for clout, scamming... We all hoped to make it out Just to bring it home, Now we thinking different and moving different, When family get called home, the streets meet warwounds We light it up at the vigils For the ones gone soon I lift my chin and roll up my sleeves Cause theres always work to do, as The Mararhon Continues.