([Intro] [Heavy, seismic drum hit every 6 seconds] [Sound of slow, metallic chugging] (Verse 1) My dad would show up at my classroom door, He’d pull me to help with a mechanical score. Trek across Texas, all over the place, For a monster made of iron and grease. Tracking them down through legends of old, Always at the end of a long dirt road. No winches, no lifts, just a jack and some beams, Loading those monsters in a feverish dream. (Chorus) Firing like a cannon, the Black Bear awakens, With every fire the ground beneath is shakin’. Three thousand pounds of iron spinning true, To carry the momentum of the piston through. Smoke bellows out, gritty and black, Get too close, there’s no coming back. (Verse 2) We’d sweat through our shirts in the heat of the day, Finding the leverage to make the big iron play. No easy path to follow, no crane ramp in sight, Just the grunt and the muscle 'til we tucked it in tight. But when we got ‘em home, and primed the cup, To see if they’d breeth, see if they’d light up. Using all of our weight, man against wheel, Until the spark found purchase in a throat of the steel. (Bridge) The rhythm of the field was a rhythm in our blood, Drag lines in the thicket and the rods through mud. But the story wasn’t iron, and the story wasn't grease, It was a father and son finding mechanical peace. One cylinder, one long dirt road, Sharing all the secrets of a heavy-metal load. (Outro) The engine still thunders, massive wheels spin, That’s where the real learning would always begin. Better than school, better than the pen, Just the Bear and the old man, making giants live again. [End]
