The Battle Worn 🇺🇸🪖🎸ROCK version

Rose to the tip of the spear, Only for it to take me here Where I was called by my last name, And the man I was was never the same. It was the mountain and it was the valley, It was the church and it was the jail, It was the heaven and it was the hell The place where broken spirits dwell. It was orders in the dark, And silence when they’re gone. Learning how to fight for my brothers, Then learning how to fight alone. Every scar tells a story, Every ghost a name I won’t bury. I’ve worn the weight of thunder’s breath, Felt the hush between life and death. The battlefield’s a restless sea, Where waves pull deep inside of me. It was the mountain and it was the valley, It was the church and it was the jail, It was the heaven and it was the hell— The place where broken spirits dwell. It was orders in the dark, And silence when they’re gone. Learning how to fight for my brothers, Then learning how to fight alone. Every scar tells a story, Every ghost a name I won’t bury. In the quiet, shadows dance and weave, A tapestry of what I can’t leave. Still the march beats in my veins, A song of loss, a thread of pain. It was orders in the dark, And silence when they’re gone. Learning how to fight for my brothers, Then learning how to fight alone. Every scar tells a story, Every ghost a name I won’t bury. I walked through fire, I’ve faced the storm, A boy once lost, now battle-worn.