My Boots Still Hit This Ground

Another year of headlines bleeding, World on fire, nothing stable. Jobs disappear like morning ghosts, Families breaking at the table. Storms roll in without a warning, Hope gets priced too high to buy… But I’m still here, boots in the dirt, And I refuse to lay down and die.

My boots still hit this ground, When the whole damn world falls down. Crisis in the air like smoke, But I ain’t giving fate the crown. Let the reaper circle wide— He won’t drag me underground. ’Cause no matter what this year became, My boots still hit this ground.

Empty shops and shuttered windows, Dreams foreclosed on every street. Good men lost their final savings, Strong hands knocked beneath their feet. But fear don’t get the final say, And pain don’t set the rules I ride… I carry every broken day Like bullets jangling on my side.

My boots still hit this ground, When the whole damn world falls down. If hope ain’t more than whispers now, I’ll shout until it shakes the town. Let the night come full of teeth— I’ve survived harder hunts than hounds. And long as I’ve got breath to burn, My boots still hit this ground.

I’ve watched the world lose half its faith, Watched strong men break, watched good hearts drown… But something in my bones stayed fierce, Something kept me battlin’ down. Maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s rage— Maybe it’s years that taught me how… But every time the world fell apart, I whispered, “Not me… not now.”

My boots still hit this ground, Steel in my soul, fire in my sound. Let any year come loaded cruel, I won’t kneel and I won’t bow down. If the reaper wants a reckoning, I’ll meet him standing proud— Yeah, the world keeps breaking piece by piece… But my boots still hit this ground.

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