Iron On The Tongue

Turn the speakers past the warning Let the needle find the groove

There was something in those records That still makes the whole room

move

No polished edge could hide it

No machine could make it shine

Just four walls, a stack of amplifiers And a reason to go

wild

We heard it through the walls

We felt it in our bones A generation found a voice And

made the noise its own

We were born from the thunder

Raised on the sound Of guitars like weapons And drums shaking the

ground

We carry the lesson

We carry the sound What started in those old songs Still lives

in us now— STILL LIVES! (yeah!)

Leather jackets, battered records Names scratched into the case

Every riff became a language Every solo left a trace We learned

that you could play it faster We learned you could make it

mean But underneath the speed and volume There was always something real

No shortcuts

No disguise

Just a six-string screaming

Through the night

We were born from the thunder

Raised on the sound Of guitars like weapons And drums shaking the

ground

We carry the lesson

We carry the sound

What started in those old songs Still lives in us now— STILL

LIVES!

Turn it up!

Let the old records play!

Every generation

Finds another way! We don’t have to copy

What came before

We take what they gave us

And push it forward!

LOUDER!

FASTER!

HEAVIER!

KEEP IT ALIVE!

We were born from the thunder

Raised on the sound

Of guitars like weapons

And drums shaking the ground

We carry the lesson

We carry the sound

What started in those old songs Still lives in us now— STILL

LIVES!

STILL LIVES!

STILL LIVES IN US!

(ohhh yeah)