He didn't fit in, he always felt rejected.
His father him him and made him feel infected.
He got a bottle it seemed to take the pain away.
Only 15, but he didn't know any other way.
Always searchin, never felt like he belonged.
Always hurtin, always told that he was wrong.
He left home, the streets looked safer.
All alone, except a court of Schaffer.
All alone, with no where to go.
He feels at home at the punk rock show.
And when he's hangin out with his crew.
Livin on the streets of Miami.
He'd rather die than go home to his family.
That's what he'll do.
He doesn't want you pity.
Miami can be a cruel city.
He's always ready for a fight.
He doesn't want you sorrow.
Don't wanna think about tomorrow.
He only wants to make it through the night.