Bulls In the Bronx | PTV [ROUGH EDITING]

The New National Anthem *

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Bulls In The Bronx [Fan Fiction] Project - By RainPierce

The New National Anthem

Vic's P.O.V

Life can do so many things. It can bring so many surprises, fortunes, misfortunes, tragedies... Life can mess you over, ruin you, or completely destroy you. I keep learning that as life moves on. Nobody else can see the ruin, except for one person: yourself. If you're lucky, you have that one person that can see through it. I'm telling you this because today I remembered what it was like in my teenage years. Back then, I used to worry about everything. I used to worry about how my future would look like. I would creep out at the thought of seeing myself as a hobo in the street asking for money. I would fear becoming completely lonely, having no money, food, or someone to rely on. But I perfectly knew that won't ever happen unless I did something that prevented me becoming that. It sounds kind of silly. But don't we all feel like that sometimes? It's a "normal" human thought, I've been told. Well, today I remembered when I was told, that it was okay to fear sometimes. It's a reminder we're human.

Well, today, my fear was waking up. And I mean it as like, I was feeling way too freaking exhausted.

I looked through my pile of shirts, and picked one. After I got ready, I then, prepared our equipment. The gang started getting ready for our show. Today felt like an every day show. We were all at first exhausted, but, pumped afterwards. Sometimes there is a need for a Monster Drink so it can get you going. But truthfully, sometimes it's a bit painful when you got a lot going inside your head. But it's what we do in order to get people happy... And some just go way overboard with that idea.

Suddenly I felt something hit me on my back, but it didn't hurt me though. It was a soft hit.

"Pantera!"

I swirled around and saw Mike giggling. I looked down at the floor and see what he had thrown me: A fluffy turtle. I stare at the fluffy thing for a while, and realize it was Tony's.

"Don't throw my turtle... like that! Asshole!" Tony shouted at Mike, reaching down to take his fluffy precious little thing he sleeps with. But before he could, I decided to make his life miserable and I grabbed it and threw it back at Mike.

"Pantera!" I shot back.

Mike gaped at me, "Game. On."

Soon we had a throwing-stuff fight.

I hid behind a huge amp, and peeked over to see Mike and Jaime at battle. Tony looked around and soon his eyes found mines. He grinned, and soon his eyes flickered to look behind me.

My eyes scanned behind me, and suddenly I felt the hardness of a cold water bottle thrown to my leg. I yelped, and glared at Tony.

"PANTERA!"

"Seriously, guys? Are ya twelve? Stop! You guys are up." Chris, our manager said, walking into this riot.

We all stopped to look at him, shaking his head in annoyance, but he chuckled and smiled at our childish selves. Well, this is what he sometimes has to put up with half of the time. Which also makes me wonder, does he grow the urge to smack the holy crap out of us? I mean, me and the guys tend to do some crazy shit. I laugh, and decided to walk towards one of my guitars, and grab one.

I threw the guitar strap over my head and wrapped it around my shoulder and held my guitar. I grabbed a guitar pic, and glanced at the guys. Mike placed his drum sticks on the floor and did some stretches. Jaime started to do to. We all did. After a few stretches, we all held our instruments and headed out into the stage after we were introduced.

The crowd erupted into cheers, screams, shouts, squeals, booming voices. They were extremely hyper, happy, excited, pumped today. That's when I thought, everyone that was in the crowd came here, to get away from everything. Who knows what they go through at home, if their lives are shit or not. But the reason why they came here in the first place, is to enjoy themselves, and the music, of course. And the simple thought of their satisfied being complete because of us, felt nice. I mean, teenage me would look at me, and say, wow, you asshole, you did it! I look around and see how many people love what we created, what we built. A community that we built together. I loved it. We did. The simple thought of that made us happy. I mean, a musician's goal is similar to the goal of an author and of a doctor. How is it similar? A doctor saves lives from the ruins, help the injured recover. The Author's goal is to influence and inspire creativity and the lives of a person. A musician does that all together. And us, being that, is simply a breathless thought. I always look back and think, if it weren't for them, me and the gang wouldn't be standing here. And as life goes on, I'll keep telling myself that.

"What's up Portland!?" I shouted into the mic, earning screams and shouts.

We started off with "Besitos" a song I never thought I would write.

You're my favorite explosion.
A violin with no hands plays symphonies with no words.
A drowning boy with no voice prays someone up there's telling me,
You'd better not get back up!
I spit my heart into this red cup.
I'd better pick it back up, it might ruin your night.

And she said, "Baby, leave the water by the bed for later,"
and I woke up without a single drop.

I told myself I'm tired of holding up your backup plans.
Go down your list and be satisfied if all you have is not enough.

(True love comes from more than just the heart)

She said paint a picture on me,
throw your dress up and your heart away.
Yeah, I heard what you said.
A friend of a friend, these strangers at the party never paid.
And if that doesn't turn you on.
I'll keep talking till something does.
As we're covered in sand, you roll over and smile.

I told myself I'm tired of holding up your backup plans.
Go down your list and be satisfied it's all you have.
And until that day,
I'll steal you flowers from the cemetery, red roses.
Red rose of the dead.
How does it feel to breathe oxygen inside her head?

So say it, say I'm in love, cause you called me
crying from your job, said you just got fired.
And you don't have a backup plan,
so don't expect me to understand.

A diamond bullet and a gun made of gold, she was covered in blood last seen in San Francisco

Yeah!
We all breakdown.
Sometimes the bedroom walls become my only friends,
but they were there from beginning to end.

I'm tired of holding up your backup plans.
Go down your list and be satisfied it's all you have.
You know I've never held a gun in my life,
but now I carry one around in case I see you tonight.
Bedroom walls.
Oh, these bedroom walls.
Oh, I hate what it tastes like.

After the song ended, we received and awful a lot of cheers. Many people jumped out of enthusiasm, and I just looked at them. I couldn't help but smile and think, wow, this is what I created.

This is living the life.

After the show, it was time to go home.

Going back to Bella.

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I used to drive six hours just to see this girl that I liked. She was beautiful, but didn't know it because she was from a small town. I went to her place once and it was completely empty because she was in the process of moving into another apartment. I remember making out with her in the dark in the middle of her empty carpeted floor. A lot of the lyrics are about that night. I recorded the intro to this song in our apartment in L.A. We used a lot of the original sounds from my ghetto little recording on the album ~ Vic Fuentes on The New National Anthem