A man’s strength isn’t for himself. It’s for the kid getting picked on. The friend who needs someone to stand with them. The stranger no one else will help. Strength without service is just bullying with extra steps.
“Be the kind of dangerous that makes bad men nervous and good men feel safe.”
The arrangement tells the whole story — warm acoustic guitar, tender and intimate, a father’s gentle voice. Then strings build hope. Then it drops into something dark, minor-key, ominous: this is what you’re protecting against. And finally it explodes — triumphant brass, driving drums, cinematic power. Because controlled strength, aimed at the right target, is a beautiful thing.