[INTRO — instrumental, warm keys, round bass, swinging drums] [VERSE 1 — conversational flow, unhurried] Dre picked me up at six, Marcus by six-ten (uh) Three ex-ballers in a Sentra, shoulders touching like back then Four hours south to a church we never seen To say goodbye to a man who made us run till we'd lean On each other — that's the whole thing, that's the play He never said it that way, he said suicides, again Twenty years gone and I still hear the whistle In my dreams sometimes — sharp, clean, official He'd make us run for being late, then stay and run beside us Said a team that suffers together never hides from what's inside us Corny — man, we knew it then, we know it now The corn was the true stuff — it just needed time to plow [HOOK — melodic, warm] Coach, coach We still running all the plays you wrote On our sleeves, on our days, in the way we raise our own Coach, coach Four hours for a man who gave us years Least we could do is show up with the tears [BRIDGE — drums pull back, keys only, close voice] He never talked about winning much He talked about showing up Said the scoreboard forgets by Friday But a team — a team remembers enough (coach) [VERSE 2 — faster flow, painting pictures] Church is full of versions of us — different decades, same knees Same stories in the lobby: remember when he made us freeze In the quad for horsing 'round, then bought us all a Coke Every generation swearing that they were his favorite joke His wife at the front receiving like a queen of forty years Says he kept a folder of us — letters, cards, the tears We never sent — no, we did — we just sent 'em late Like this one — showing up in the final quarter of the game Marcus reads a eulogy, his voice holds like a bridge Talks about the '03 season, how we won with heart, not height And I look around at all these grown men crying in their suits And I finally get the lesson that he planted in our youth [VERSE 3 — flow opens up, resolve] Drive back north, nobody sleeps, we're too awake Planning a memorial game every year for his sake Dre's got a whistle in the glovebox — don't ask Some relics you carry without a task We stop at a diner, order pancakes like we're seventeen Talk about our kids, our knees, and everything between And somewhere past the county line it hits me clean and true The man is gone but the huddle isn't — look at us, the proof Coach — we hear the whistle still And we run toward it, and we always will [HOOK — melodic, warm] Coach, coach We still running all the plays you wrote On our sleeves, on our days, in the way we raise our own Coach, coach Four hours for a man who gave us years Least we could do is show up with the tears [OUTRO — keys and bass ride out] (coach... coach...) Suicides, again We don't even mind
