Fight This

I want to tell you when you're flightless --
wings broken, hands cold, and sightless --
I'll lift you up as long as you still say that you can fight this
battle we were thrown in, and even though you're moanin'
you could never be scared to stare
life right in the eye because it dares you, wears you,
tears you down to what you're meant to
be.
And if you were meant to be wingless --
bound down to the ground that is now found kingless --
then maybe life just dared you, compared you,
made sure you still cared to push it into gear,
to compromise your fears for the sake of he who hears you
when you scream that you're not scared to
throw your hands high into the air and remind life
that though the sky bans you from heading its way,
you carry two birds with you that still like the day
and to see the light of it.
And that you enjoy the sight of it
when your moves speak volumes,
though your voice lacks volume
on the ears of the peers that will surround you,
pound you, but who have never once crowned you
for the things you've done right or that one time -- that night --
when he cried on your shoulder and you sat with him
or when they had their hearts broken and you explained to them
that their lives are a battle and the wounds will sting
but for the ones who prevail, in their ears will ring
a song of pride and love, and
even though the song's something I've never heard of,
I'd like to think that my life is a battle so I'll fight it
and write my name up on the wall of those who liked it
for all it was.
So if you try this, I promise to you now that when you're flightless,
people will bring you down, but you can win this
'cause someone will always be there to lift you up
if you just share with the world that you won't give up.