The song "Hit The Floor" is owned by Linkin Park and whomever wrote it, not me, and all lyrics from said song do NOT belong to humble ol' me!

Glimm

The Upper Hand Is Mine

--There are just too many times that people have tried to look inside of me
Wondering what I think of you when I protect you out of courtesy--

You're my leader; it's my duty to support you in battle, whether it be the physical ones we usually get into, or a verbal one with a mouth like Dave. But I see them looking, wondering why we stand behind you with a loyalty that almost seems blind.

--Too many times that I've held on when I needed to push away--

The way you stare at us, with your eyes to blue, so green, so grey—so haunting. Sometimes I feel as if I'll smother under your glare if I don't move myself away from it. Sometimes I feel as if I'll suffocate here if I don't escape from your rule. And yet I always stay, don't ask my why, for telling you would ruin the plan.

--You think having the upper hand means you gotta keep putting me down
But I've had too many standoffs with you it's about as much as I can stand--

I know you're not naïve enough to think that the boys don't know: I was next in line for leadership until you came along. You stole my power, my rule, from under my nose before I had even caught that first whiff of glory. Which is one of the reasons I don't fear you as the others do. I know that, unlike them, I'm the only one with a match for your determination, for your drive. And so I know that, when the time comes, when the moment whispers that it has arrived; that I can beat you.

--So I'm waiting until the upper hand is mine--

And when it is, watch your back Conlon, for Brooklyn will no longer fall under your vicious rule. I will be the King of Brooklyn, King of the most feared and revered newsboys in all of New York City. I won't let you stifle these boys any longer, I won't let you dampen their spirits like you've done so many others. I won't. I refuse to let you win.

--So many people like me put so much trust in all your lies--

I remember when you first became leader. Yeah, I was bitter, but I was young and stupid, and I was willing to give you a chance. After all, if Top chose you over me, he must've had one helluva good reason for it. You're one silver-tongued little bastard, I'll give you that. You spoke with all these pretty words, all coated with a thick glaze of that threatening, smooth way you have of making everyone shut the hell up and listen. But that's all they were, pretty little words coated with silky intimidation.

--I know I'll never trust a single thing you say
You knew your lies would divide us but you lied anyway--

And for what? To earn that power? I will admit, Conlon, you're one powerful son of a bitch. I see the way the younger ones cower under your icy stare, and the way boys twice your size shake in their suspenders when you threaten them with a slick, short jerk of your body and a jut of your chin. But the lies, Conlon, the lies. The lies of no more battles, the lies of a good life for the Brooklyn newsy—where'd they all go? We were promised the moon, and all we got was a river view—and everything. We don't even have a fucking lodging house, you dirty asshole. What about the little ones, who shiver and shake in the winters because they don't have a warm bed? They need to be cared for, Conlon, and a leader is supposed to protect the little ones.

--What goes up will surely fall and I'm counting down the time--

Just wait. You can't be leader forever, little man. You rose quickly, like a speeding bullet, and as hotheaded as one. And you will fall just as fast. I promise you as much: Your downfall will not be torturous, will not be drawn-out. It will be fast, and it will be sudden, and it will leave you panting and breathless; leave you wondering where all your glory went.

--And all the lies have got you floating up above us all--

It just makes me sick. The way you swagger about like the king of the world, like you're some kinda God or something; it makes me wanna deck you so hard you bleed all the way to Crotona Park. And it makes me sick how they all idolize you, even though nothing you've promised has been delivered to us. You promised us everything under the sun to make us accept you as our leader, and when that wasn't enough, you busted a few heads; confirming your toughness to the warrior inside all of us. You may be tough, but to me, you still aren't worthy. Brooklyn is like its own kingdom, and a king must be noble, and have a sense of honor. And a king must protect his people, not send them out to die for him. But we Brooklynites  are a lot based and raised with loyalty in our blood, and we'll go die in your name, Conlon. But I hope, that for every boy that has died in the name of Brooklyn, I hope that his memory keeps you up at night. I hope it eats away at your soul until you can't see straight.

--All I know is that all I want is to feel like I'm not stepped on--

Other boys may worship you to the point of blasphemy Conlon, but I don't. Other boys may not care or notice that you take advantage of them; that you take their naked devotion to you and use it to bend them to your will, but I do, I care. I see the way your eyes twinkle when an idea sparks in your brain and you look into their faces and realize that, through them, you'll get what you want. You always get what you want, don't you? You came to Brooklyn because you knew it was the place to get power, and power was what you needed, what you crave. You thirst for power, don't you? Damn you, Conlon, for you damned us all as soon as you came.

-- But what goes up has got to fall--

And fall you will. I refuse to let you bring down Brooklyn. I've been a newsy here almost all my seventeen years, and I refuse to see it fall because some idiot kid manipulated our former leader into giving him the glory. Brooklyn is my soul, this borough is the only home I have, the only home I've ever known. And these boys are the only family I've ever had, and, when you fall, I won't let you take my home and my family with you. I won't let you fall by some other leader who decides to dispose of you. If you fall that way, the boys will fly into a panicked rage and get themselves killed. No, Conlon, you will fall by my hand. And I won't kill you. I'll leave you alone and exposed. I'll leave you in shock and the most emotional pain you've ever felt. You too, Conlon, will finally feel the agony of betrayal.

--One minute you're on top
Next you're not watch it drop--

Watch it Conlon: watch your power fall around about your shoulders. Watch it Conlon: watch your life crumble and fall. Watch.

--What goes up has got to fall--

Watch it fall.