[Verse 1] At the factory gate, the air went hard Grease on their hands, sparks in the dark Mad crowds ran in from the freight-yard line Saying that old line crossed the line
[Pre-Chorus] Then the drums of boots came down One hard wall in a dusty town And every shout that rose up high Hit a shield and split the sky
[Chorus] Dear President, hold the line Dear President, stand this time Crowds came strong with bitter hands But law stood firm across the land Dear President, hear us now Dear President, we won’t bow
[Verse 2] Shields went up like painted steel Batons flashed where the anger spilled Faces burned with smoke and blame But the flags still waved the same
[Pre-Chorus] Through the wreck and through the roar They locked that gate and held the door And every cry that shook the night Met a wall of iron and light
[Chorus] Dear President, hold the line Dear President, stand this time Crowds came strong with bitter hands But law stood firm across the land Dear President, hear us now Dear President, we won’t bow
[Bridge] Maybe the mills remember this Every shout and every fist But the road goes on, rough and bare And somebody’s got to care
[Final Chorus] Dear President, hold the line Dear President, stand this time Crowds came strong with bitter hands But law stood firm across the land Dear President, hear us now Dear President, we won’t bow Dear President, hold the line Dear President, this town will stand
Stile di musica
Country melodic anthem with a steady mid-tempo stomp, brushed drums, acoustic strum, electric twang, and heartland percussion. Verse rides sparse guitar and bass; pre-chorus opens with lifted harmony stacks; chorus swells with full drums, fiddle line, and group vocals on the anchor phrase. Lead vocal stays close and gritty in verses, wider doubles on the hook, with short delay throws and gang shouts. Ear candy: snare lifts into choruses, a fiddle turnaround after each hook, and a brief breakdown before the final lift. Mix is bright, punchy, and radio-ready with a rootsy edge., country