To the teens of I.S. 125
A river flowing of decades containing kids living in hell
Going from a youngin,to coming into a new level of rebels
Fighting for the rights of others,and also their own
Stress builds on top,parents just bother,while we sit at home
Crying on the corner,wishing we'd just die a quick death
Lying in denial of ourselves,taking any breath we take left
Laying down at night,headphones on loud listening to music
Elders making us seem not right,every last chance we lose it
With nothing to bring back,we become what we always hate
For every discrimination,we still made what we have became
Having whatever gift we have and losing it at a certain age
The books we live in,lifts to a new level and a new page
New generations producing everyday,and new challenges come
The teenage exitinction is on it's way,leaving an unfortunate sum
We're scared...Mainly the fact we wont last long or stay late
And our future,and our soul...Will become what we'd always hate
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