Born for This: The Battle Cry of the Broken and the Brave

 

 

Some songs are meant to comfort.
Some are meant to rouse.
But Born for This by The Score is a battle cry — not just for the lone fighter but for everyone who has ever felt broken, doubted, underestimated, and still chosen to rise.

This is not a song of easy triumph.
It is a song of scars and fire, of years of hidden struggle, of late-night tears no one saw, and of the decision to turn that pain into the fuel of transformation.

The power of Born for This is that it refuses both despair and shallow optimism.
It is a song for those who know what it is to fall and still say: I was made for this.
It gathers all the solitary warriors into one voice, one vow, one name — and turns the private battle into a shared uprising.

Listen closely, and you will hear more than defiance.
You will hear a blessing: a reminder that your mistakes are part of the dance, that your pain is not wasted, and that you, too, were born for this.

 

Verse 1

 

I'm checking my vital signs
Drawing my battle lines, going to war again
Feeling the rhythm inside of my chest, all I need is just a pen
I know I was born for this
I know I was born for this

This first verse is the moment before the charge — a stillness heavy with decision, like the pause before the conch is blown at Kurukṣetra.

• “Checking my vital signs”
  The seeker is not just looking at their pulse — they are checking if they are truly alive.
  Are you awake enough to fight? Is your spirit still burning?

• “Drawing my battle lines, going to war again”
  This is the conscious choosing of struggle.
  The warrior does not wait for the fight to come — they step forward and mark the ground: this is where I stand.
  The word “again” shows that this is not the first war — this is a cycle of returning to the arena, each time a little stronger.

• “Feeling the rhythm inside of my chest”
  The heartbeat becomes the drumbeat of destiny.
  It is the rhythm of Śakti awakening — the signal that the time for stillness has ended and the time for action has arrived.

• “All I need is just a pen”
  The weapon is not steel but word, vow, declaration.
  The pen is the instrument of destiny — writing the next chapter in blood if necessary.

• “I know I was born for this” (repeated)
  The repetition seals the mantra.
  This is not egoic self-talk — it is remembrance.
  It is the soul saying: this moment is not random. I was shaped in the fire precisely for this.

  
  

Pre-Chorus

 

I believe, I believe we can write our story
I believe, I believe we can be an army (Hoo)

The solitary vow now becomes contagious — a call to others to rise.

• “We can write our story”
  This is the assertion of agency — we are not passive characters in someone else’s play.
  The pen that was mentioned in Verse 1 is now offered to everyone: the power to author destiny together.

• “We can be an army”
  The solitary vira becomes part of a sangha — a fellowship of warriors.
  It is not an army of conquest but of transformation, united by a shared fire and a shared name.

   

Chorus

We are the warriors who learned to love the pain
We come from different places, but have the same name
'Cause we were, 'cause we were, 'cause we were
'Cause we were born for this, we were born for this (Oh-oh-oh, hoo)
We are the broken ones who chose to spark a flame
Watch as our fire rages; our hearts are never tame
'Cause we were, 'cause we were, 'cause we were
'Cause we were born for this, we were born for this (Oh-oh-oh, hoo)

This chorus is the heart of the song — not just defiance, but the transmutation of pain into power.

• “Warriors who learned to love the pain”
  This is tapas in its purest form — pain no longer feared but embraced, transformed into strength.
  The song does not glorify suffering passively but reveals the alchemy of turning it into fire.

• “Different places, same name”
  A recognition of the archetypal current: all who endure and rise belong to the same lineage, whether they know each other or not.
  The “same name” is not personal — it is the shared title of those who have chosen the path of awakening through struggle.

• “Broken ones who chose to spark a flame”
  Crucial line: brokenness was not the end but the beginning.
  The choice to light a flame in the dark is the moment of transformation.
  This is how saints, mystics, and visionaries are forged — by refusing to let brokenness have the last word.

• “Hearts are never tame”
  This is the Kaula seal — refusal to be domesticated by fear, conformity, or despair.
  The awakened heart remains wild, untamed, alive.

   

Verse 3

 

I've struggled for years and through all the tears
I've faced the doubts I hide
I never gave into my fears deep within cause
I heard my voice inside
I know I was born for this
I know I was born for this

  

This is the moment of vulnerability and testimony — the part of the song that lets us know this fire was not lit without cost.

• “Struggled for years and through all the tears”
  The path has not been glamorous. It has been long, grueling, hidden.
  These are the tears no one saw, the inner battles no one applauded.

• “Faced the doubts I hide”
  The seeker admits that even warriors have moments of collapse.
  True courage is not the absence of doubt but the willingness to face it, name it, and move through it.

• “I heard my voice inside”
  This is the turning point — the moment of inner guidance, when the soul stops looking outward for validation and begins to listen to its own current.

• “I know I was born for this” (repeated)
  The mantra is reaffirmed, now deeper than before.
  It is not a boast but a recognition: this struggle was not meaningless — it was initiation.

  
  

Bridge

 

These words that I write are for someone like me
To know you're not alone
The moves that you make, yeah, they come up mistakes
Don't ever lose your hope
Just know that you were born for this
Just know you were born for this (Hoo)

 

The warrior now turns outward — no longer just fighting for themselves but speaking to those who are still in the fire.

• “For someone like me”
  These words are addressed to the next vira, the next seeker who is staring at their own battle lines.
  It is a message passed down the lineage: you are not alone.

• “The moves that you make… come up mistakes”
  A tender acknowledgment that failure is part of the path — not disqualification but initiation.
  The warrior’s voice becomes the guru’s reassurance.

• “Don’t ever lose your hope”
  This is the central blessing: keep the flame alive.
  Even when you fall, even when you are mocked, even when the night is long — do not let the fire go out.

• “You were born for this” (repeated)
  The mantra is now handed to the listener.
  It is no longer just the singer’s self-remembering — it is a seed planted in the heart of everyone who hears.

Conclusion

 

Born for This does not end like a victory march — it ends like a torch being passed.
It begins with one heart checking its vital signs, drawing its battle lines, and it ends with an entire chorus of voices reminding us that pain can be loved, that brokenness can be the birthplace of fire, and that no one fights alone.

This is not just a song of endurance — it is a song of transfiguration.
Every tear, every mistake, every sleepless night becomes part of the offering, part of the proof that you were shaped for this very moment.

The final words — “you were born for this” — are no longer the singer’s mantra.
They are handed to the listener like a banner, like a sword, like a responsibility.
To sing them is to claim your place in the line of those who rise again and again, who choose the flame over numbness, and whose hearts will never be tame.