Hand Me Down CrownsTotal Recall

"I think that my hunger""And my desire""And my fire in the belly""And that nothing could stop me""I think that comes from growing up the way I did" Meinhard's trousers, always an inch too long, a metaphor I'd later grasp Patchwork ambitions, stitched with want, a future built to last Beyond the confines of the Forsthaus, where the water jug was king And every calorie a victory, the only song the hungry sing Saw the farmer's kid, new leather shoes, a casual, careless stride While mine were bound with twine and hope, a different kind of pride The taste of another's plenty, a bitter, burning brew Fueled a furnace in my belly"Arnold, this ain't meant for you This scraping by, this second best, this echo of a life" The scent of mother's three-day treks, escaping famine's knife Lingered in the threadbare coats, a silent, stark decree You either rise above the dust, or let the dust rise over thee No welfare checks, just welfare stares, the judgment in their eyes Another mouth, another burden, beneath indifferent skies But in that lack, a diamond formed, pressure sharp and keen To not just want, but seize the world, rewrite this sorry scene Hand-me-down crowns, on a borrowed, hopeful head No silver spoons, just calloused hands, and words my father said The neighbors whispered"Gustav's boys, a handful, wild and free" But"free" just meant the freedom to be hungry, same as me I watched the world through windowpanes, fogged by my own damn breath Plotting escapes, in childish schemes, cheating an early death Of spirit, of ambition's flame, before it even caught This ain't just 'bout a full damn plate, it's 'bout the battles fought Within the quiet desperation, the unspoken, gnawing dread So when you see the victory laps, remember what I've said The roots run deep in barren soil, where dreams take longer to ignite But once they burn, they blaze a path, and conquer through the night Every"no" a stronger"yes" every closed door, a wall to climb This ain't just luck, this ain't just fate, this is the art of outsmarting time Hand-me-down crowns, on a borrowed, hopeful head No silver spoons, just calloused hands, and words my father said"When you grow up like that, you don't shy away from anything"