The Range

Early morning, break of dawn, pack my rifle and my worn out boots on, drivin' down that

Gravel road where the red clay dust has always flowed. The old oak tree marks the line where

Grandpa taught me to take my time. He said, boy, aim straight and true and the world won't have

Nothing on you. Shootin' at the range, feelin' free. The sound of bullets echoes, it's just me

With every shot, memories come alive. Out here, I'm just tryin' to survive

Target set up, a mile wide. Precision comes with patient pride. Trigger finger steady as a rock

Each shot tells a story, tick of the clock. Simple moments, under that blue sky. With every pull

I aim for the prize. Thinkin' about those who came before, their spirits guide me as I score

Shootin' at the range, feelin' free. The sound of bullets echoes, it's just me. With every shot

Memories come alive. Out here, I'm just tryin' to survive