Keep the Faith
Here To Stay
What is it about a screaming crowd? What is it about show after show that keeps me sane? I looked down at the faces in the crowd. Every time I see that mosh pit below me, I get a feeling within me that tells me to keep going. Every time I see those fans in the front, suffocating, incapable of breathing, yet crying, I know that what I’m doing is right. Every time, they sing along through their tears. This band is such an emotional escape—every concert is a safe place for those who have endured pain. Every time, I always see that girl in the front, balling her eyes out. She could be wearing designer clothes, a black t-shirt, or a fucking Hollister shirt; there is always at least one that I distinctly notice. Crying. Looking up at me in awe. Admiring my presence.
It’s an odd feeling when I really think about it. Not too long ago I was a coke addict, an alcoholic, a goddamn nasty guy who was in that garage band with his brother. We’ve gone a long way from there. International tours. Mass amounts of media coverage. We aren’t that little garage band from underground New Jersey anymore.
I looked over the rest of the crowd. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them. I could hear them singing and screaming and crying. The mosh pits and crowdsurfers created obstacles for those who were watching the show. They thrashed and pushed eachother around like animals. Honestly, though, I couldn’t care less. They were the reason that I was here.
I don’t understand the hypocritical, angry kids that make fun of me and the fans. I don’t understand the hatred toward this genre of music of which I have poured my heart, my life, and my time into. I guess you’re either with us or against us. You’re either gonna rock your heart out or you’re gonna want to throw a football at my face. Throw what you want, because this band is staying strong. We aren’t going anywhere.
People say that I am their hero. It may or may not be true, but I will tell you something else. Every fan; every kid who’s picked on and endures it everyday; every kid that has risen up from the battle, the never ending cycle called depression; Every single one of them, they are my heroes, the reason I am alive. We must keep faith that everything will be okay. We must keep faith in eachother, all in all, we must keep faith in this band. We must keep faith together.
It’s an odd feeling when I really think about it. Not too long ago I was a coke addict, an alcoholic, a goddamn nasty guy who was in that garage band with his brother. We’ve gone a long way from there. International tours. Mass amounts of media coverage. We aren’t that little garage band from underground New Jersey anymore.
I looked over the rest of the crowd. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them. I could hear them singing and screaming and crying. The mosh pits and crowdsurfers created obstacles for those who were watching the show. They thrashed and pushed eachother around like animals. Honestly, though, I couldn’t care less. They were the reason that I was here.
I don’t understand the hypocritical, angry kids that make fun of me and the fans. I don’t understand the hatred toward this genre of music of which I have poured my heart, my life, and my time into. I guess you’re either with us or against us. You’re either gonna rock your heart out or you’re gonna want to throw a football at my face. Throw what you want, because this band is staying strong. We aren’t going anywhere.
People say that I am their hero. It may or may not be true, but I will tell you something else. Every fan; every kid who’s picked on and endures it everyday; every kid that has risen up from the battle, the never ending cycle called depression; Every single one of them, they are my heroes, the reason I am alive. We must keep faith that everything will be okay. We must keep faith in eachother, all in all, we must keep faith in this band. We must keep faith together.