Song Cover Image

Stubborn Diesel Heart

STUDIO

Used to sleep with engines humming, steel beneath me, sea below. Learned to tell when something’s trouble by a sound most folks don’t know. Coffee strong enough to strip paint, coveralls that wore the grease— now they ask how I like quiet. I say, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I can mind my manners, I can dress the part. But there’s a stubborn diesel still turning in my heart. Still got salt in my language, still got sea legs on dry land. I can clean up for the evening, but I’ll cuss when the heels get jammed. Left my boots beside the ocean, brought that stubborn streak back home— you can take this sailor inland, but the tide still pulls her bones. Midnight watch and tired faces, somebody telling jokes again. Half of us would groan together, then we’d beg for one more when the hours dragged like heavy anchor, and the coffee lost its fight. Funny what becomes your family when you share that kind of night. We could argue over nothing, give each other holy hell— but if you needed somebody, there was no need for a bell. Still got salt in my language, still got sea legs on dry land. I can clean up for the evening, but I’ll cuss when the heels get jammed. Left my boots beside the ocean, brought that stubborn streak back home— you can take this sailor inland, but the tide still pulls her bones. Some days I miss the fantail, watching daylight leave the foam. Some days I remember counting every day till we got home. Both of those can live inside me, both have earned their place. I can laugh about the hard parts without calling them the good old days. Got a mouth that needs a filter, got a laugh that carries far. Tried behaving for a weekend— didn’t make it past the car. Still got salt in my language, still got sea legs on dry land. I can clean up for the evening, but I’ll cuss when the heels get jammed. Traded watches for my own time, found a shore to call my home— you can take this sailor inland, but the tide still pulls her bones. Hang the uniform up neatly, let the years do what they do. Still got salt. Still got stories. Still got Navy running through.