Last time I felt this good, I was standing on the lunch table in middle school.
Dancing, laughing, reading notes from the girls that made me drool.
Throwing rocks through glass windows, the same way hearts shatter.
Pissing on bonfires just to empty my bladder.
Busch Lite, the cheapest beer we'll shotgun our brains to the sky.
We are the urban legends, we are the living lies.
The things no one believe, we not only conquer, but we create the future.
We're the type to receive help & end up making out with the tutor.
Val taught me that anything was possible.
The pain gave me strength, the hate became just another obstacle.
Nothing handed to us, we had to take our keeps.
We brought the booze, the weed, the girls & the sand to the beach.
Saying that we're self made would be disrespectful to the ones who helped us get here.
That's why the jet seats 60, I hope the runway's clear.
Shine bright, sunglasses needed.
Vision clear, they finally see it.
Not a day goes by that we don't pay homage to the greats who came before us.
Even when the smoke clears, our thoughts are still in orbit.
So don't be offended by the long lapse in between phone calls.
The sacrifices we make because this is what the thrown cost.
The whole world knows that the sky is blue.
But for them to admit it, we have to keep giving them proof.

It's up to us to make the world go around.