Deer Season

(Verse 1)

Cold wind blows through the white oaks, cutting straight through my coat,

Early morning fall frost crawling up the hillside like smoke.

I move quiet — a whitetail bowhunter wired to the land,

Reading sign, reading wind, reading fate in the dirt at hand.

Heart gets to pounding when the timber shifts slow,

Buck fever shaking like a leaf — but I still draw my bow.

---

(Hook)

This is Deer Season — where the rut turns the woods into war,

Where a whitetail steps out and every breath means more.

Full draw locked steady when he cuts through the rye,

And when instinct takes over — I let that arrow fly.

---

(Verse 2)

White oaks stand silent like old bones guarding the ridge,

Cold wind blows hard, pushing scent across the bridge.

A heavy‑neck whitetail slips in with that rut‑born fire,

Thick‑necked, wild‑eyed, driven by nothing but desire.

Heart gets to pounding — everything sharp and alive,

Buck fever shaking like a leaf, but I’m built to survive.

---

(Hook)

This is Deer Season — where the rut turns the woods into war,

Where a whitetail steps out and every breath means more.

Full draw locked steady when he cuts through the rye,

And when instinct takes over — I let that arrow fly.

---

(Verse 3)

Early morning fall frost clings tight to my gear,

White oaks whisper stories only bowhunters hear.

A bruiser steps out — scarred, thick, ready to fight,

Cold wind blows hard, pushing him into the light.

Heart gets to pounding — this is where legends are made,

Bowhunter soul burning like a blade in the shade.

---

(Hook)

This is Deer Season — where the rut turns the woods into war,

Where a whitetail steps out and every breath means more.

Full draw locked steady when he cuts through the rye,

And when instinct takes over — I let that arrow fly.

---

(Final Hook)

This is Deer Season — the reason I rise before dawn,

Running the white oaks clean until the frost is gone.

When the rut kicks wild and the big boys rise,

I answer the call with a shot that never lies.