Still Figuring It Out

He’s got dust on his boots, dreams in his head,

The kind they said he’d lose before he’s dead.

Mama’s prayers and a half-packed car,

Chasin’ something he can’t name that far.

Ain’t got much but a gas-tank hope,

A busted heart and a nicotine throat.

He’s been runnin’ from the things he’s seen,

Tryin’ to find what freedom means.

They say, “Grow up, boy, settle down.”

But he’s still fightin’ to stand his ground.

He’s still figurin’ it out,

What life’s about, what dreams are worth the doubt.

Caught between a promise and a fight,

A little wrong, a little right.

He’s just tryin’ to make it somehow —

Still figurin’ it out.

Left his town with a torn-up map,

Every road sign’s whisperin’ back.

He’s been broken, he’s been burned,

But every scar’s a lesson learned.

He’s seen nights where the pain runs deep,

Talks to ghosts when he can’t sleep.

But there’s fire in those weary eyes,

Ain’t done reachin’ for the sky.

Every fall just feeds the flame,

You can’t kill a soul that won’t be tamed.

He’s still figurin’ it out,

What life’s about, what dreams are worth the doubt.

Caught between a promise and a fight,

A little wrong, a little right.

He’s just tryin’ to make it somehow —

Still figurin’ it out.

Maybe someday he’ll slow it down,

Find a home in some small town.

But not tonight — the highway calls,

And he’s got miles to go through it all.

Still figurin’ it out,

No shame in the fall, no fear in the shout.

Every dream that’s ever bled,

Paints the story in his head.

He’s still runnin’ that restless route —

Still figurin’ it out.

He ain’t lost — just turnin’ around,

Still figurin’ it out.