FEILD SIDE

With smoke and steel, we play this game,  
Taming wild hearts, igniting the flame.  
You don’t spend time; you witness the crime,  
Hoops pierce the silence, but it’s all in the rhyme.  
In the fields, the spirits grow,  
Watch the animals dance, let the good times flow.  

  
Pick up that hat, dust off your pride,  
No time for hurt, it’s a wild ride.  
In with the new, respect the old,  
Wake up with the men, let your story be told.  

  
Drool on the shoulder, passed out in the hay,  
Life’s not a game if you live it this way.  
All animals fed, warmth in their beds,  
Respect’s not given, it’s earned, it’s said.  
Never turn your back on the feisty bulls,  
They may seem calm, but they’re breaking all rules.  

  
Concussions hit hard, like a bus in a rush,  
Lessons learned, but the pain can crush.  
Cattle conviction, they’ll send you away,  
If you’re not careful, you’ll pay for the play.  

  
Pick up that hat, dust off your pride,  
No time for hurt, it’s a wild ride.  
In with the new, respect the old,  
Wake up with the men, let your story be told.  

  
Crisp P. Bacon, oh what a fate,  
Should’ve thought twice before tempting his plate.  
Now he’s just a ghost in the pen all alone,  
Mama calls me in for breakfast, the feast has grown.  
So heed this warning, as the sun starts to rise,  
In the heart of the farm, it’s survival, no lies.  

  
Pick up that hat, dust off your pride,  
No time for hurt, it’s a wild ride.  
In with the new, respect the old,  
Wake up with the men, let your story be told.