[Intro: muted trumpet, snare] False start Lane three [Hook] False start, false start, I live in the sound One early crack and a whole future hit the ground I don't get to outrun it, I just hold the gun right False start, motherfucker, every single night [Verse 1] I was the voice on the mic and the thumb on the trigger County meets, state meets, kids chasin' a bigger life than the town that taught 'em how to breathe in the blocks I took that serious. Then I took it for granted once Heat shimmer, late day, championship hundred Kid in lane three had a full ride if he won it My thumb twitched early. Crack. Field broke wrong Red flag. Recall. His hamstring sang a song on the second go and he limped off the oval in tears Paperwork said "athlete injury." I heard years His coach looked at me like I'd stolen a name I looked at my hand like it wasn't the same [Hook] False start, false start, I live in the sound One early crack and a whole future hit the ground I don't get to outrun it, I just hold the gun right False start, motherfucker, every single night [Verse 2: drums drop to bass and trumpet] I kept the job 'cause nobody else wanted the blame New protocol, two officials, same old shame I start clean now. Obsessive. I count my own breath I wait a half beat longer than the rulebook suggests Kids still crouch. Parents still yell. Gun still black I still see lane three when I blink and look back Ran into him at a grocery five winters gone He bagged my bread, nodded once, kept movin' on Didn't curse me. Didn't smile. Just a nod like a bill That quiet cost more than a lawsuit ever will I tip too much. I leave. I sit in the lot Practice the stillness my thumb somehow forgot [Beat Switch: double-time kit, trumpet open] Championship Saturday, sky like a bruise Eight lanes of kids who don't know what I lose sleep over. I raise the gun. Whole stadium hums I wait. I wait. I wait 'til the quiet comes Crack on time. Field clean. No recall, no ghost For three seconds I almost forgive the host of the night I failed. Then I pack the blank shells Drive home with the windows down and the old smell of scorched air in the nose like a private little hell I ain't askin' for grace. I'm askin' to do it well every time after. That's the only repair I trust A steady thumb. A fair start. A debt paid in dust [Verse 3: half-time, trumpet and bass] Lane three got a job now. I checked once and stopped Ain't my story to stalk. Ain't a wound I can mop Some errors don't reverse. They just teach you the weight I carry mine to the blocks and I start 'em all straight [Final Hook: full kit, trumpet] False start, false start, I live in the sound One early crack and a whole future hit the ground I don't get to outrun it, I just hold the gun right False start. Gun down. Track empty. Goodnight [Outro: trumpet fades, snare] Set Hold Go
0/500