Armor of the last survivor

Verse 1 — dry acoustic, heavy foot stomp]

I spent my youth behind a concrete wall, trading blows with demons in the dark.

Chasing dope and drugs, running from the law, leaving nothing but a broken trail of sparks.

Now I spend my twelve-hour shifts at a plasma table, cutting shapes out of a heavy iron plate.

Burning cold steel just to prove that I am able, keeping all the hunger from the gate.

Some men seek their peace where the neon lights are shining,

I find mine in the smoke and the gears slowly grinding.

I used to fight the world just to prove that I was tough,

Now just standing here to hold 'em up is more than quite enough.

Yeah, I wear the armor of a survivor,

It ain’t shiny, it’s been dragged through the mud

Got a zipper down my chest from the bypass wire,

But there's a fire burning deep inside my soul.

The fighter had to die so the father could rise,

Looking at the world through these heavy, faded eyes.

Every time I’m thrown, I get back on the horse again—

This is the armor of a survivor, my friend.

I hear the screen door slam in the Texas heat, my daughters running out to say goodbye.

See my grandkids playing down a gravel street, under a wide and heavy south east Texas sky.

My hands might shake when the morning starts to cold, from the long miles and the heavy steel I've run.

But I'm passing down the lessons that a hard life told, to the ones who carry on when I am done.

It’s a long way back from the edge of the grave,

But you learn to appreciate the miles that you save.

I don't thank the darkness for the scars I had to earn,

But I appreciate the way they forced my heart to turn.

Yeah, I wear the armor of a survivor,

It ain’t shiny, it’s been dragged through the mud.

Got a zipper down my chest from the bypass wire,

But there's a fire burning deep inside my soul.

The fighter had to die so the father could rise,

Looking at the world through these heavy, faded eyes.

Every time I’m thrown, I get back on the horse again—

This is the armor of a survivor, my friend.

They cut me open, tried to lock me away,

But the spirit doesn't listen to what the doctors say.

The world will try to break you down to the bone,

But you never have to walk through the fire alone.

The hands that used to fight are the hands that hold 'em tight,

And lead 'em through the shadows to the morning light.

Yeah, I wear the armor of a survivor,

It ain’t shiny, it’s been dragged through the mud

Got a zipper down my chest from the bypass wire,

But there's a fire burning deep inside my soul.

The fighter had to die so the grandfather could rise,

Looking at the world through these grateful, faded eyes.

Every time I’m thrown, I get back on the horse again—

This is the armor of a survivor, m