Blood on the Brand

(Intro – Heavy guitar riff, slow build)
Steel in the saddle… dust in the wind…
You don’t cross this line and live again…

(Verse 1)
Sun burns red on the Montana range,
Forty thousand acres that a man can’t change.
Fence posts leaning but the line still stands,
Drawn in dirt by my old man’s hands.
Pickup rumbling down a broken road,
Shotgun riding where the cattle roam.
This land ain’t numbers on a banker’s plan,
It’s scars and sweat and blood in the brand.

(Pre-Chorus)
They say the West is fading out,
But they ain’t been where we’ve been…

(Chorus)
There’s blood on the brand, carved deep in this land,
Ghosts of the cowboys still ride where we stand.
Try to take what’s ours, you’ll learn firsthand,
This dirt don’t forgive, this dirt don’t bend.
Thunder in the hills, fire in the sand,
Every mile paid for by a working man.
If you want this ranch you better understand—
There’s blood… on the brand.

(Verse 2)
City lights rolling down the highway line,
Million dollar suits with a crooked design.
Talking ‘bout progress, talking ‘bout change,
But they don’t know the law of a cattleman’s range.
Out here promises carry weight,
And breaking one’s a dangerous fate.
Some men leave when the trouble began…
Some men stay in the dirt of this land.

(Pre-Chorus)
You can push a cowboy far enough,
But sooner or later he’ll stand…

(Chorus)
There’s blood on the brand, carved deep in this land,
Ghosts of the cowboys still ride where we stand.
Try to take what’s ours, you’ll learn firsthand,
This dirt don’t forgive, this dirt don’t bend.
Thunder in the hills, fire in the sand,
Every mile paid for by a working man.
If you want this ranch you better understand—
There’s blood… on the brand.

(Bridge – slower, gritty)
My granddad bled for this patch of sky,
My daddy swore he’d rather die
Than watch these fields turn parking lots…
So we stand our ground with all we got.

(Build – guitars rising)
And if tomorrow comes with a gun in hand,
We’ll meet it right here where the fence posts stand.

(Final Chorus – bigger, heavier)
There’s blood on the brand, carved deep in this land,
Ghosts of the cowboys still ride where we stand.
Try to take what’s ours, you’ll learn firsthand,
This dirt don’t forgive, this dirt don’t bend.
Thunder in the hills, fire in the sand,
Every mile paid for by a working man.
If you want this ranch you better understand—
There’s blood… on the brand.
There’s blood on the brand, carved deep in this land,
Every generation leaving their hand.
Storms may come but the roots still stand,
Stronger than steel in a cowboy’s hand.
If the devil himself wants a piece of this land,
He’ll meet every ghost that built this stand.
You can try to take it but you’ll never understand—
The blood… on the brand.

(Outro – heavy riff fading)
Montana wind through the barbed wire strand…
Still whispering…
Blood on the brand.

Rock, outlaw country, male