Arc Kings

Step in the shop,

got the hood on black,

Steel on the bench and the tools in the pack.

Set that wire, get the gas just right,

TIG, MIG, Stick—we be working all night.

Sparks pop off like a city skyline,

Heat in the puddle while I follow that line.

Dime-size beads with a clean technique,

Turn raw metal into something unique.

Strike the arc, let it hiss,

let it glow, Tack it down tight,

make the whole thing hold.

From the beams downtown to the pipes underground,

We connect the pieces,

make the world go round.

Hands stay steady, never lose control,

One weld at a time,

building something whole.

Mask flips down, now I’m deep in the zone,

Torch in my hand,

but I’m never alone.

Chipping that slag, check the bead for the flaw,

Strength in the joint—that’s the code that I saw.

It’s an art and a craft,

every mark got a meaning,

Every pass tells a story of the work we’re completing.

From a race-car frame to a skyscraper wall,

We fuse it together—we’re connecting it all.

Arc fades out,

let the metal cool.

Strong connection—that’s the golden rule.