Gunpowder Halo Over Dead-Man Hill – Song [Wraith]
Verse 1Dead-Man Hill’s just a patch of dirt where the grass never quite grows right,Empty beer cans in the weeds, black rings burned into the hillside night,He used to drag his boxes up, king of every bad idea with a fuse,Grinning with a crooked charm, betting his life that the sky would choose.
Verse 2He loved that hiss before the roar, the fuse like a snake with fire for teeth,Eyes lit green and red and white, madness painted on the smoke-wet breeze beneath,We watched him dance with mortars like they were partners at a cheap last call,Never thought the sky would keep him, never thought one wrong spark would take it all.
ChorusNow every Fourth of July, when the rockets claw the dark in bloody blooms,I swear I see his shadow riding shotgun in those screaming plumes,The city’s show is neat and timed, but there’s always one wild flare on that hill,And when it blows too bright, too loud, I hear him laugh, and the world goes still.
Verse 3They bolted down a metal plaque that says he loved the light and loved this town,But his real headstone’s the scorch mark where the grass stays charred and brown,Kids chase sparks with candy tongues, dogs pull leashes when the first shots start,Somewhere in the smoke and thunder, he’s still lighting fuses in my heart.
ChorusNow every Fourth of July, when the rockets claw the dark in bloody blooms,I swear I see his shadow riding shotgun in those screaming plumes,The city’s show is neat and timed, but there’s always one wild flare on that hill,And when it blows too bright, too loud, I hear him laugh, and the world goes still.
BridgeMaybe he got what he was chasing, traded dirt and rent for sky and flame,No quiet stone, just gunpowder halos spelling out his burning name,So when the night explodes in color and your chest shakes with the sound,That’s him kicking at the heavens, daring death to spin another round.
Verse 4When the last big volley fades and ash drifts down on every car and face,We pack our chairs and gather cans and leave that hill to its empty space,But thunder rolls some random night and windows shake and dishes ring,I tilt my head, count one two three, and picture him rehearsing.
Final ChorusYeah, every Fourth of July, when the rockets claw the dark in bloody blooms,I swear I see his shadow riding shotgun in those screaming plumes,The city’s show is neat and timed, but there’s always one wild flare on that hill,And as long as something loud and reckless owns the sky,he’s up there lighting fuses still.
Verse 1Dead-Man Hill’s just a patch of dirt where the grass never quite grows right,Empty beer cans in the weeds, black rings burned into the hillside night,He used to drag his boxes up, king of every bad idea with a fuse,Grinning with a crooked charm, betting his life that the sky would choose.
Verse 2He loved that hiss before the roar, the fuse like a snake with fire for teeth,Eyes lit green and red and white, madness painted on the smoke-wet breeze beneath,We watched him dance with mortars like they were partners at a cheap last call,Never thought the sky would keep him, never thought one wrong spark would take it all.
ChorusNow every Fourth of July, when the rockets claw the dark in bloody blooms,I swear I see his shadow riding shotgun in those screaming plumes,The city’s show is neat and timed, but there’s always one wild flare on that hill,And when it blows too bright, too loud, I hear him laugh, and the world goes still.
Verse 3They bolted down a metal plaque that says he loved the light and loved this town,But his real headstone’s the scorch mark where the grass stays charred and brown,Kids chase sparks with candy tongues, dogs pull leashes when the first shots start,Somewhere in the smoke and thunder, he’s still lighting fuses in my heart.
ChorusNow every Fourth of July, when the rockets claw the dark in bloody blooms,I swear I see his shadow riding shotgun in those screaming plumes,The city’s show is neat and timed, but there’s always one wild flare on that hill,And when it blows too bright, too loud, I hear him laugh, and the world goes still.
BridgeMaybe he got what he was chasing, traded dirt and rent for sky and flame,No quiet stone, just gunpowder halos spelling out his burning name,So when the night explodes in color and your chest shakes with the sound,That’s him kicking at the heavens, daring death to spin another round.
Verse 4When the last big volley fades and ash drifts down on every car and face,We pack our chairs and gather cans and leave that hill to its empty space,But thunder rolls some random night and windows shake and dishes ring,I tilt my head, count one two three, and picture him rehearsing.
Final ChorusYeah, every Fourth of July, when the rockets claw the dark in bloody blooms,I swear I see his shadow riding shotgun in those screaming plumes,The city’s show is neat and timed, but there’s always one wild flare on that hill,And as long as something loud and reckless owns the sky,he’s up there lighting fuses still.