Little Kids in State Police Hats

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Verse 1 We were raised where the boots hit heavy, Keys on the counter, badge by the door, Men who could walk into somebody’s worst night But didn’t always know what daughters needed them for. We learned early how to read a silence, How to tell what kind of night it would be, Standing in the hallway, trying not to make trouble, Learning strength before we knew what strength could mean. There are pictures somewhere in old cardboard boxes, Two little smiles beneath brims too wide, State Police hats falling down over our foreheads, Thinking our fathers could conquer the night. Pre-Chorus God, we thought growing up Would mean finally understanding. Turns out we just got taller And better at pretending. Chorus We’re still little kids in State Police hats, Trying to navigate life like we know where we’re at. Carrying ghosts and carrying names, Carrying people we couldn’t save. We’ve buried sisters, buried old lives, Loved the wrong people and somehow survived. Call us broken, call us tough, Call us warriors when the road gets rough— But under every scar and every battle we’ve had, We’re still little kids in State Police hats. Verse 2 We grew into women with armor for skin, Learned some hands don’t touch you with love. Learned leaving can hurt just as bad as staying, And sometimes surviving has to be enough. There were doors slammed shut and promises shattered, There were nights we begged our hearts not to care, Men we loved who became memories, And empty sides of beds that stayed empty there. We learned how a goodbye can change your language, How grief can age you overnight, How a sister can leave this earth forever And somehow still walk beside you every night. Pre-Chorus Everybody calls us strong now, Like we had some kind of choice. They never heard the little girls Still hiding underneath our voice. Chorus We’re still little kids in State Police hats, Trying to navigate life like we know where we’re at. Carrying ghosts and carrying names, Carrying people we couldn’t save. We’ve buried sisters, buried old lives, Loved the wrong people and somehow survived. Call us broken, call us tough, Call us warriors when the road gets rough— But under every scar and every battle we’ve had, We’re still little kids in State Police hats. Verse 3 — Jenna’s Perspective I look at you and I recognize it, That way you laugh when the hurt gets near. That look that says, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” When both of us know you’re fighting tears. Maybe that’s why I never have to explain it, Why some things between us don’t need words. We both know what it means to love a hard man, And still remember the little girl first. You lost pieces of your whole damn history, I’ve got pieces missing from mine too. Different roads, different kinds of damage, But somehow I can see myself in you. And maybe we’re not supposed to fix each other, Maybe that was never ours to do. Maybe sometimes another survivor Just needs someone saying, “I see you.” Chorus ’Cause we’re still little kids in State Police hats, Trying to navigate life like we know where we’re at. Carrying ghosts and carrying names, Carrying people we couldn’t save. We’ve buried sisters, buried old lives, Loved the wrong people and somehow survived. Call us reckless, call us tough, Call us warriors ’cause we never gave up— But underneath every shield we learned to wear like that, We’re still little kids in State Police hats. Bridge We’ve been daughters, We’ve been lovers, We’ve been somebody’s reason to stay. We’ve been terrified, We’ve been furious, We’ve watched whole pieces of life get taken away. We’ve had bruises nobody noticed, We’ve had heartbreak nobody knew. We learned warriors aren’t fearless— They’re just scared people walking through. And maybe our fathers made us harder, Maybe losing made us wise. Maybe every person who tried to break us Put another little fire behind our eyes. But if heaven keeps the photographs, I hope they kept that one somewhere— Two innocent girls beneath those hats, Before we knew life wasn’t fair. Breakdown And I’d tell those girls: You’re gonna lose people. You’re gonna lose yourself. You’re gonna love somebody Who can’t give you what you felt. You’re gonna fight like hell. You’re gonna fall apart. You’ll learn there’s more than one way For somebody to break a heart. But baby, you keep going. Even crawling counts as brave. You don’t become a warrior Because somebody came to save you. You become one Every time you save yourself. Final Chorus We’re still little kids in State Police hats, Just older now, with a whole lot behind our backs. Carrying ghosts but carrying grace, Seeing our sisters in familiar places. We’ve survived goodbyes that should’ve destroyed us, Survived hands and words meant to make us feel worthless. Yeah, we’ve been bent, but we’re standing up, Two damn warriors who still know how to love. So here’s to the women And the childhood underneath that— Who are still those little kids in State police hats