[Intro] Bolt by bolt. Breathe slow. Seal tight. Hands stay calm when the gauges bite. [Verse 1] Map runs dry. Red needle starts to spin. Green bleeds gray like a verdict locked in. Names in my pocket, photo creased into four— faces I still talk to when the dark gets too sure. Checklist in my teeth. Count the exits. Count the cost of every person I’d rather break than lose. Then the floor gives way. Loose screws learn to fly. A coin flips slow, cuts a moon through my eye. No road below. No rail to ride. Just one thin line and the whole hush wide. Voice stays level. Jaw stays set. But every breath now comes with interest and debt. If the world’s a room and the room comes unstitched, I’ll be the mark on the wall the dark can’t switch— not because I’m strong. Because someone still needs me to be. [Pre-Chorus] Four in the fist. Four in the chest. Frame says run. I answer, “Not yet.” When the floor forgets what floors are for, I make one small promise, then one more. [Chorus 1] Man down, man down— but I’m still standing. No gold, no flag, no funeral planned. I haul every name through the black and the burn. Still cracked. Still choosing what I won’t return. When the glass goes blind and the numbers run free, I know what I carried. I know what stays with me. [Verse 2] Hull takes the hit. Warning lamps paint the walls. I read every scar while the hot air crawls. Lock the brace. Count the cost. Put the seconds on trial. One right move measured in fractions of a mile. Pulse in the headset: boot on a stair. Step after step through a house without air. Numbers skip pages. Silence holds court. Stone rushes up to deliver the report. No speech. No bargain. No deal with the sky. I name every person I’m getting home— then I wait for the why that never arrives. Panic wants the sprint. It always does. So I spend every breath like a match, not a fuse. I can feel them watching from the other side of the glass. I refuse to let this be the last time they ask if I’m still coming. [Pre-Chorus] Four in the fist. Four in the chest. Frame says run. I answer, “Not yet.” When the floor forgets what floors are for, I make one small promise, then one more. [Chorus 2] Man down, man down— but I’m still standing. No medal, no anthem, no last confession. I held every name when the sky went blank. Still broken. Still breathing. Still refusing the rank of casualty. I kept the list alive. I kept what I promised. I kept what survives. [Bridge] I said I’d come back with my shoes on the floor. Not clean. Not fearless. Just through the door. Glass took a fracture. Fingers still shake. Static in the cabin says, “Stay for the wake.” But the promise was never to land untouched. It was carry every name I had locked in my clutch— the ones who still need me, the ones I still need, the ones I would burn this whole sky to keep even if keeping them costs me the rest. [Breakdown] Wait— No signal. No skyline. One breath. One bearing. Wait— Now. [Final Chorus] Man down, man down— but we’re still standing. No throne, no glory, no borrowed poem. We dragged every name through the fire and the free. Still cracked. Still here. Still choosing what we keep. Though the view went dark and the bearings came loose, we knew what we carried. We knew what to choose. And if the ground only gives us one more chance to stand, we’ll take it with every name still warm in our hands. [Outro] Set the coin down. Unlace the suit. Say each name— slow. Like it still matters. Feel the floor. Man down— but standing. Still standing. Because someone has to.
