*****

We are not standard shapes we do not fall in place

don’t force the edges it’s inevitable messes we make

it’s either bend or break

fall in or fade away

You’ll never bury me my voice will find it’s way through the clay

If you’re the flowers we’re the ****s

born survivors our roots grow deep

cut us out we’ll be back

we’re the new life in the cracks

if you’re perfection we’re disease

separated and quarantined

shut us out we’ll be back

we’re the new life in the cracks

we’re born to rise above spring forward from the mud

perfect conditions don’t exist when you fight back from the mud

come lift your voice with mine this army built from vines

we’re shooting upward taking over every branch that we climb