The Weapon

The Story:

The Weapon is drawn directly from my youth in the Alaskan interior.  We lived in a small cabin far outside Fairbanks, on the north side of a mountain, without running water or electricity.  It was just my mother, my brother, myself, and our dog, Kia.  After an injury left my mother unable to work steadily, everything we had went into keeping that roof over our heads.  Survival wasn’t a concept, it was routine.  Living off the land wasn’t a lifestyle choice; it was necessity.  High school was the only place that felt like distance, but college was out of reach, and there were no soft exits. The military stood waiting, clear, direct, and uncompromising.  A way out that came with its own cost.  This song carries that path forward, not just for me, but for the brothers and sisters who answered the same call and carried far more than I ever did.  The second half of the song blends with their stories.

The Lyrics:

Born in a house where the winter bit deep,
Hand-me-down boots and a promise to keep.
Mom raised my brother and I alone,
Hunger always found its way back home.

Food was scarce and times were lean,
Learned to hunt when I was just thirteen.
A boy with a rifle walking slow,
Through the spruce and silent snow.

Each step was steady each breath was light,
Learned the wind like a friend at night.
One shot meant a meal to share,
Missed and we had empty chairs.

I learned to stand tall with hope so tight
The weight of survival held me right

A tool became a weapon in my hand,
A boy became a man when he took a stand.
The flag called my name I answered true,
From Alaskan snow to sand I grew.

I used to shoot to keep us fed,
Now I shoot for the life I led.
From the hunger of the pines so tall,
To the war that claimed it all.

The Corps cut me down then built me strong,
Taught me steel and right from wrong.
Shaved my head and showed me how,
To bury fear and take the vow.

Boot camp burned the fear away,
Taught me how to face the fray.
Shaped me hard in fire and pain,
Left me scarred but not the same.

Every trigger pull tore at my soul,
Fighting the war but losing control.

A tool became a weapon cold,
A weapon took the peace I hold.
Turned a gentle mountain child,
Into a man both fierce and wild.

I used to shoot to save my kin,
Now I shoot through the noise within.
Every round I fired wide,
Left a ghost I can't out ride.

The tool became the weapon’s call,
The weapon became my all.
Carried war like second skin,
Even when the peace set in.

That old rifle on the wall,
Whispers of the past it holds.
Reminds me of the life I knew,
And the hell I walked through.