Sailing heart-ships through broken harbors out on the waves of the night, still the searcher must ride the dark horse racing alone in his fright.

We wouldn't ask why a rose that grew from the concrete for having damaged petals; in turn, we would all celebrate its tenacity, we would all love its will to reach the sun. Well, we are the roses, this is the concrete and these are my damaged petals. Don't ask me why, thank God, and ask me how.

The seed must grow regardless of the fact that it's planted in stone.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared.

It seems like every time you come up something happens to bring you back down.

The struggles I'm facing, The chances I'm taking, Sometimes might knock me down, But no, I'm not breaking.