Strong men make good times. Good times make weak men. Weak men make bad times. Bad times make strong men. It should be a song, right? It’s rock.
Behind The Music:
All the songs so far are here (LINK). You can buy this song right now.
As of today, you can buy ALL of them (except the parodies) anywhere you buy music as soon as they go up, generally the same day. You have to search for “Wilder’s Hammer” (rock) and “Wilder’s Brigade” (country) to find them all. I listen to them on Spotify, and I see others do, too. Although buying them doesn’t support this blog, it does support the owner of the LLC owns the music. Who might also own the LLC for the blog.
The Eternal Wheel
By John Wilder
In shadows of fallen kings, where wind whispers low,
Bad times carve steel in souls, make strong ones grow
From dirt and despair, warriors claim the right,
Hammer down chains of fate, end the dark night
They raise towers to the sky, tame the wild frontier,
With blood and sweat they pave the road, banish every fear
Heroes born from broken ground, in the crucible’s glow,
Turn the tide of chaos back, make the good times flow
Oh, the wheel is ever turning, spinning through the dark,
Bad times forge the mighty, light their inner spark
Strong men build the golden age, where rivers run with wine,
Good times breed fragile hearts, soft and weak inside
Weak men summon storms again, the cycle’s cruel decree,
In the rhythm of the ages, no escape, no plea
Empires soar and shatter, thrones to dust they fall,
The eternal wheel keeps rolling, claiming one and all
In the land of endless plenty, where feasts never end,
Good times dull sharp edges, make the vigilant bend
Laughter drowns the ancient warnings, shadows creep unseen,
Weak men chase fleeting dreams, in a world serene
They scorn the scars of yesteryears, trade fire for ease,
Forget the triumphs we won, brought low now on their knees
The cracks begin to spider out, in the heart of the feast,
Decadence
awakens
the beast
Wise men trace patterns old, from Rome’s crumbling halls,
To Babylon’s forgotten gold, where mighty always fall
Weakness blinds the rulers high, plenty takes its toll,
The cycle of rise and ruin, etched deep in every soul
No breaking from the spiral’s grasp, it’s woven in our veins,
Each revolution brings the crash, the joy, the chains, the pains
Yet from the wreck, the flame ignites, the strong emerge once more,
The wheel demands its sacrifice, one we can never ignore
Oh, the wheel is ever turning, spinning through the dark,
Bad times forge the mighty, light their inner spark
Strong men build the golden age, where rivers run with wine,
Good times breed fragile hearts, soft and weak inside
Weak men summon storms again, the cycle’s cruel decree,
In the rhythm of the ages, no escape, no plea
Empires soar and shatter, thrones to dust they fall,
The eternal wheel keeps rolling, claiming one and all
Listen to the echoes fade, in the wind’s eternal sigh,
The cycle spins unbroken, beneath Earth’s blue sky
From ashes to the glory, then back into the flame,
The wheel turns forever, our one eternal game
