[INTRO — PICKAXE STRIKES, BOOTS RUNNING] Coal counted. Wood stacked. Water hauled—again, like it never stays done. Seven beds made. No breakfast—just the thought of it passing by. [VERSE 1] Morning doesn’t arrive here gently. It drops like a tool in a tin bucket. Cold air chewing through sleeves like it has a job to finish. The ground remembers every step, keeps a ledger in the mud. We try to outwork the silence but it always adds it up. Seven names carved into routine, seven shadows learning weight. No one asks if we are ready— the day just opens the gate. [PRE-CHORUS] And the hands don’t stop shaking but they keep on building anyway. [CHORUS] WE KEEP THE WORLD FROM FALLING DOWN WITH SPLINTERED PALMS AND BROKEN SOUND. IF WE STOP, IT ALL COMES CRASHING— SO WE DON’T STOP, WE DON’T BACK DOWN. COAL TO FIRE, FIRE TO ASH, EVERY MOMENT SPENT TOO FAST. WE DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE SAVING— ONLY THAT IT HAS TO LAST. [VERSE 2] Someone laughs near the water barrel, like laughter still belongs to us. It echoes off the empty treeline and comes back less and less. A bootprint fills with morning rain, a shovel leans like it forgot. We keep pretending this is purpose when it’s mostly just “don’t stop.” Seven beds, still warm from absence, seven dreams that never land. We fold them like forgiveness we don’t understand. [PRE-CHORUS] And the sky keeps lowering like it wants to press us flat. [CHORUS] WE KEEP THE WORLD FROM FALLING DOWN WITH SPLINTERED PALMS AND BROKEN SOUND. IF WE STOP, IT ALL COMES CRASHING— SO WE DON’T STOP, WE DON’T BACK DOWN. COAL TO FIRE, FIRE TO ASH, EVERY MOMENT SPENT TOO FAST. WE DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE SAVING— ONLY THAT IT HAS TO LAST. [BRIDGE — PICKAXE SLOWS, WIND TAKES OVER] What if the work is just a circle? What if the end is just the start? What if the weight we keep on lifting was never meant to leave the heart? A pause. A breath. A hand unclenched. The sound of nothing being fixed. [SOFT CHORUS — HALF VOICE] We keep the world from falling down… but maybe it was never ours to hold. [FINAL CHORUS — FULL BUILD] WE KEEP THE WORLD FROM FALLING DOWN BUT OUR HANDS ARE NOT THE GROUND. IF IT BREAKS, IT BREAKS WITHOUT US— WE ARE NOT THE ONLY SOUND. COAL TO FIRE, FIRE TO ASH, EVEN TIME WILL NOT OUTLAST WHAT WE BUILT JUST TO SURVIVE IT— AND THE MOMENT WE LET PASS. [OUTRO — BOOTS SLOWING] Seven beds unmade this time. Not from failure—just from choice. Coal still counted. Wood still stacked. Water still there if we need it. But for once… no one runs.
