Hackathorn Blood

Dirt road dawn, boots by the door
Mama’s Bible on a splintered floor
Old Ford coughing, barely starts
But it knows these roads like it knows our hearts
Granddaddy’s hands still in this land
Coal dust ghosts in the creek and sand
We ain’t got much, but we stand our ground
With a worn-out name in a hard-luck town

They say you’re stuck where you’re born
But they don’t know a Hackathorn

We’re the broke-down dreamers with a spark that won’t die
From the hills of West Virginia under coal-black sky
Yeah we fight, yeah we bleed, yeah we carry that scorn
But there’s fire in the roots of a Hackathorn
From the holler to the highway, we’re torn but sworn
We’re just trying to rise… on Hackathorn blood

Friday night lights and a rusted bar
Same old talk ‘bout who we are
They say we’ll drown in a bottle or debt
But we ain’t done proving them wrong just yet
Sister’s working double shifts in town
Brother’s out laying pipeline down
Every scar got a story to tell
Every step climbing outta this hell

They write us off like we’re gone
But they don’t know a Hackathorn

We’re the broke-down dreamers with a spark that won’t die
From the hills of West Virginia under coal-black sky
Yeah we fight, yeah we bleed, yeah we carry that scorn
But there’s fire in the roots of a Hackathorn
From the holler to the highway, we’re torn but sworn
We’re just trying to rise… on Hackathorn blood

Maybe one day we’ll leave these hills
Or maybe we won’t—but we got that will
‘Cause home ain’t chains, it’s who we are
Even when we’re reaching for something far
You can doubt, you can laugh, you can shut that door
But you can’t break the back of a Hackathorn

Cold nights, cheap gas, one last chance
Calloused hands and a second glance
We ain’t lost, just worn and bruised
With everything to prove and nothing to lose

We’re the broke-down dreamers with a spark that won’t die
From the hills of West Virginia under coal-black sky
Yeah we fight, yeah we bleed, yeah we carry that scorn
But there’s fire in the roots of a Hackathorn
From the holler to the highway, we’re torn but sworn
Yeah we’re rising up strong… on Hackathorn blood

Yeah the name might be worn, but it still stands tall…
You can bury the past—can’t bury us all.

Morgan Wallen, country, male