(Verse 1 - Day 1: The Clash)
Sixty-three summer, the storm starts to rise,
Gun smoke drifts, fire burns in their eyes.
Rebels push strong, Reynolds holds ground,
Shots rain heavy, men start fallin’ down.
McPherson’s Ridge, Union lines collapse,
Forced to retreat, but they planin’ a trap.
Meade takes command, sets up the scene,
Cemetery Hill where the high ground leans.
Grey coats march, thinkin’ fate’s on they side,
But the Yanks hold firm with a battle-tested pride.
Sun starts to set, but the war don’t sleep,
Day one done, but the blood runs deep.
(Chorus)
Smoke in the sky, the cannons still cry,
History’s written where warriors die.
Three days of thunder, three days of pain,
A nation in ruin but not in vain.
(Verse 2 - Day 2: The Turning Point)
Dawn breaks cold, both sides take position,
South strikes fast with a soldier’s precision.
Devil’s Den dark, bodies fall in the dirt,
Every inch gained came with death and the hurt.
Little Round Top, Chamberlain stands,
Holdin’ the hill with a blade in his hand.
Bayonets flash, cuttin’ straight through the ranks,
Rebels retreat, leavin’ ghosts in the banks.
The fight’s far from finished, the blood still spills,
The wounded still cry from the crest of the hills.
Day two fades, but the table is set,
One last battle, no room for regret.
(Chorus)
Smoke in the sky, the cannons still cry,
History’s written where warriors die.
Three days of thunder, three days of pain,
A nation in ruin but not in vain.
(Verse 3 - Day 3: The Final Blow)
Third day dawns with a silence so grim,
Pickett gets orders, Lee’s faith is in him.
Marchin’ through fire, headlong in the blast,
The Union holds firm, this charge won’t last.
Cannons explode, the ground shakes beneath ‘em,
Men drop fast, but the rest keep believin’.
Closer they get, but the lines won’t break,
Pickett falls back—too little, too late.
Lee rides low, with his eyes to the ground,
Knows what he lost, hears fate in the sound.
North sees the light, South sees the chains,
Lincoln gives words that still remain.
(Chorus)
Smoke in the sky, the cannons still cry,
History’s written where warriors die.
Three days of thunder, three days of pain,
A nation in ruin but not in vain.
(Outro)
The blood stains fade but the story don’t age,
Gettysburg echoes on history’s page.
A war fought in fire, a country was torn,
But out of the ashes, a new world was born
