2026-01-10 806pm drones gravity and passing on the grace of god to my kids

draw the listener in, dynamic range vocal, subtle, anthemic choruses, narration, building beats

Drones, Gravity, Grace, and the Open Box
(Verse 1: The Gasoline Days)
Forty-two years ago, in a field with no name
Where the older men played their gasoline game.
Standin' with boxes, antennae held high
Sending jagged commands to a dangerous sky.
Balsa and glue, built with calloused hands
Fragile creations on unpaved lands.
They roared like chainsaws, they shook in the air
Terrible precision, flying on a prayer.
It looked so cool, but the danger was real
A spinning propeller of wood and of steel.
Months to build it, gluing rib to the spar
For a three-minute flight that didn’t go far.
So much time for a moment of sound
Before the inevitable crash to the ground.
And I stood there watching, with a hunger to see
But the planes were all blind, wild and free.
No lens on the nose, no view from the height
And I am a camera guy—I needed the sight.
I wanted the vision, not just the noise
Different dreams for different boys.
(Verse 2: The Beach at Dusk)
Years drifted by, till the week that he died
We gathered the family by the ocean side.
It was dusk on the beach, where the light gets low
On the sand that he loved, watching the tide go.
Just me and the drone, and the salt-heavy air
A first-gen hum, and a family prayer.
We watched the sun dip, a fire in the gray
I put my head in the clouds as he slipped away.
My feet on the sand, but my eyes in the sky
Watching the horizon of a world go by.
The video shakes, but the memory holds
Turning the grief into pixels of gold.
That was the start, the spark in the night
Finding the solace inside of the flight.
(Verse 3: The Gap and The Screen)
Then the W-2 ended in March '24
They took back the laptop, showed me the door.
Left me with monitors gathering dust
I use a 65-inch HDR, that’s the screen I trust.
I felt I was worthless, the fear taking hold
The spouse worrying 'bout the future unfolding.
"You aren't working for anyone," the silence would say
Little did we know, I was a sweet deduction in play.
But deep in the chest, on a secret incline
The aviator itch was still doing fine.
I locked away the drone, put the hopes in a case
Defeated and waiting, outside of the race.
The tech got better, the world flew away
And I used a memory to get through the day.
(Bridge: Hunt, Pay, Pray)
Then the realization hit, like a bolt from the blue
The "One Big Beautiful Act" that sees us through.
Placed in service in '26, it’s just as sweet
Because we gotta hunt the work, if we want to eat.
Yeah, I hunt to eat, and I eat to pay
I pay to play, in the light of day.
And if we break even, well that’s okay
She’s working hard, keeping wolves at bay.
So we give God the glory, anyway.
If the tariffs continue to abuse the trade
I can sell them unused, and the profit is made.
But I remember the child, ten years ago
Watching the rotors spin and glow.
Perhaps this tiny airforce will inspire
My son to look up, to look even higher.
To see past the tech, to the Father above
Flying in Grace, and grounded in Love.
(Chorus)
And I’m passing on the Grace of God, on wings that we can steer
A love of cameras, capturing the people we hold dear.
From the Florida sand to the overseas flight
I’m packing these cases to travel the light.
When I see my son, across the deep blue sea
I’ll pass him the controller, and he’ll fly with me.
It’s not just the tech, or the money I spend
It’s the memories of flying, in His Grace without end.
(Verse 4: The Gamble and The Date)
Now it’s January 10th, and the bills are all due
The AI keeps telling me, "Scott, you can breakthrough."
It says I can win, if I just play the part
But I used to play only for passion and heart.
Now I look at the order from New Year’s Eve
Two Mavic 4 Pros, do I really believe?
One was full price, a painful amount
The other "Amazon Resale" to save the account.
Half-price and "Mint"—is it too good to be true?
Or a blessing disguised in a box strictly meant for you?
I’ve got until January 31st to decide
To return the machine, or let the dream ride.
Crashes happen, we fall from the sky
But the "Open Box" tells me we get another try.
(Verse 5: The January Fever)
Then eight days later, the fever took hold
I ordered the Mini 5, brave and bold.
I bought the Avata 2, to fly like a bird
Screaming through gaps where the vision is blurred.
I bought the Neo, to follow my track
There is no moving forward, there is no turning back.
Ocala has rules, and the housing draws near
But I own the air, and the vision is clear.
(Outro)
The last boxes come on Monday, we'll see if they stay or go
Open box to half off—or am I half out of my mind? I don't know.
Am I being cruel to be kind?
Head in the clouds, or feet on the ground—which truth will I find?
The AI will only tell me what I want to hear
So I’ve got to ask you—the truth—my dear.
Am I wise or a fool? Are we under construction?
Just remember, my love... I'm your sweet deduction.

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Drones, Gravity, Grace, and the Open Box (Verse 1: The Gasoline Days) Forty-two years ago, in a field with no name Where the older men played their gasoline game. Standin' with boxes, antennae held high Sending jagged commands to a dangerous sky. Balsa and glue, built with calloused hands Fragile creations on unpaved lands. They roared like chainsaws, they shook in the air Terrible precision, flying on a prayer. It looked so cool, but the danger was real A spinning propeller of wood and of steel. Months to build it, gluing rib to the spar For a three-minute flight that didn’t go far. So much time for a moment of sound Before the inevitable crash to the ground. And I stood there watching, with a hunger to see But the planes were all blind, wild and free. No lens on the nose, no view from the height And I am a camera guy—I needed the sight. I wanted the vision, not just the noise Different dreams for different boys. (Verse 2: The Beach at Dusk) Years drifted by, till the week that he died We gathered the family by the ocean side. It was dusk on the beach, where the light gets low On the sand that he loved, watching the tide go. Just me and the drone, and the salt-heavy air A first-gen hum, and a family prayer. We watched the sun dip, a fire in the gray I put my head in the clouds as he slipped away. My feet on the sand, but my eyes in the sky Watching the horizon of a world go by. The video shakes, but the memory holds Turning the grief into pixels of gold. That was the start, the spark in the night Finding the solace inside of the flight. (Verse 3: The Gap and The Screen) Then the W-2 ended in March '24 They took back the laptop, showed me the door. Left me with monitors gathering dust I use a 65-inch HDR, that’s the screen I trust. I felt I was worthless, the fear taking hold The spouse worrying 'bout the future unfolding. "You aren't working for anyone," the silence would say Little did we know, I was a sweet deduction in play. But deep in the chest, on a secret incline The aviator itch was still doing fine. I locked away the drone, put the hopes in a case Defeated and waiting, outside of the race. The tech got better, the world flew away And I used a memory to get through the day. (Bridge: Hunt, Pay, Pray) Then the realization hit, like a bolt from the blue The "One Big Beautiful Act" that sees us through. Placed in service in '26, it’s just as sweet Because we gotta hunt the work, if we want to eat. Yeah, I hunt to eat, and I eat to pay I pay to play, in the light of day. And if we break even, well that’s okay She’s working hard, keeping wolves at bay. So we give God the glory, anyway. If the tariffs continue to abuse the trade I can sell them unused, and the profit is made. But I remember the child, ten years ago Watching the rotors spin and glow. Perhaps this tiny airforce will inspire My son to look up, to look even higher. To see past the tech, to the Father above Flying in Grace, and grounded in Love. (Chorus) And I’m passing on the Grace of God, on wings that we can steer A love of cameras, capturing the people we hold dear. From the Florida sand to the overseas flight I’m packing these cases to travel the light. When I see my son, across the deep blue sea I’ll pass him the controller, and he’ll fly with me. It’s not just the tech, or the money I spend It’s the memories of flying, in His Grace without end. (Verse 4: The Gamble and The Date) Now it’s January 10th, and the bills are all due The AI keeps telling me, "Scott, you can breakthrough." It says I can win, if I just play the part But I used to play only for passion and heart. Now I look at the order from New Year’s Eve Two Mavic 4 Pros, do I really believe? One was full price, a painful amount The other "Amazon Resale" to save the account. Half-price and "Mint"—is it too good to be true? Or a blessing disguised in a box strictly meant for you? I’ve got until January 31st to decide To return the machine, or let the dream ride. Crashes happen, we fall from the sky But the "Open Box" tells me we get another try. (Verse 5: The January Fever) Then eight days later, the fever took hold I ordered the Mini 5, brave and bold. I bought the Avata 2, to fly like a bird Screaming through gaps where the vision is blurred. I bought the Neo, to follow my track There is no moving forward, there is no turning back. Ocala has rules, and the housing draws near But I own the air, and the vision is clear. (Outro) The last boxes come on Monday, we'll see if they stay or go Open box to half off—or am I half out of my mind? I don't know. Am I being cruel to be kind? Head in the clouds, or feet on the ground—which truth will I find? The AI will only tell me what I want to hear So I’ve got to ask you—the truth—my dear. Am I wise or a fool? Are we under construction? Just remember, my love... I'm your sweet deduction.

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