Hawk‑Fire on the Fairway

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Verse 1 Sun’s coming up on a California sky, Coffee in the cup and a fire in our eyes. Winchester boys rolling two-by-two, Got one damn mission—put a hurting on you. Fairways shaking when the trucks roll in, Blue collars, birdies, and a taste for the win. You can hear those drivers like a freight train scream, Friday ain’t a golf match… it’s a hunting scene. Pre-Chorus You can pray to the golf gods all you want today, But once those scorecards start adding up… There ain’t no place to hide. Chorus We’re the hawks in the sky, boys, circling low, Looking for a heartbeat, looking for a blow. Winchester colors flying proud in the wind, We don’t just beat you—we break you from within. Raise one high, let the big dog bark, We’ll own every fairway from dawn till dark. When the dust settles Friday and the beers are poured, There’ll be one damn story… Winchester owned the board. ⸻ Verse 2 Geoff’s leading the charge with ice in his veins, Rooker’s got a driver that was forged in flames. The Aldrich brothers coming side by side, Like twin outlaws on a midnight ride. Jeff starts rolling putts from another ZIP code, Hartman keeps smiling while the pressure explodes. Shane ain’t talking—he just stacks up skins, By eighteen you’ll swear he was born to win. Alan’s carving wedges like a knife through pine, The two Ricks clean up every damn crime. Rakestraw’s already got the victory text, Just waiting on eighteen to hit send next. ⸻ Bridge (slow build) Hear those tires crunch… Hear those spikes click… Hear those drivers crack… That ain’t thunder… That’s Winchester coming. The Hawk’s overhead… And somebody’s about to become dinner. ⸻ Final Chorus (big guitars, gang vocals) We’re the hawks in the sky, boys, circling low, Friday at Catta—it’s time to steal the show. No white flags waving, no mercy today, Just twelve Winchester boys standing in the way. Raise your glass when the daylight fades, To birdies made and bets all paid. And if anybody asks who owned that course… Just point to the scoreboard… And the Winchester horse. Whoa-oh-oh… Friday belongs to Winchester… Whoa-oh-oh… The Hawk always eats. 🦅🎸⛳