(Two, three, four)

The guitar strumming begins, and it’s in a half-step down tuning, with a faint ambient vocal implanting the anticipatory chords. It’s like taking a step back from camaraderie, a seat in front of someone in their old living room, to hear an untold heart-wrenching story.

Oh, to be a hand on your wrist / Squeezing that shit until it opened up your fist / I, oh I / Tried to be a friend to you, but / Now we're rolling on the ground cracking ribs, kicking dust up / Mama said, “Quit it” / But you never really listen

In this first verse, Greyson Chance describes how it’s come to a point in which his brother’s hand has the potential to do some damage. And not just any damage — damage within the family. Normally, when I think of hands, I think of them as delicate and beautiful, but here, it’s the opposite, initiating harm and unleashing fury. Chance’s brother doesn’t bother to listen to their mother, either, who unsuccessfully tries to stop the fight.

I can feel the blood rush to my head / It was a gut punch, when you said / I wasn’t no one / Boy you hit a homerun / I can feel the house shake / Screaming at me ’til your jaw breaks / I know you hate me, but I’ll warn ya / Boy I’ll always love ya / So go ahead and blame it on your redneck nature / Hey brother hit me with your haymaker

This chorus is packed with action, outlining the progression of the fight. Interestingly, “gut punch” sounds a bit like “fruit punch”, which is also a bright red color, just like blood. The attacker words — that Chance is no one — is the “homerun”, meaning those words hit the hardest out of any of his hateful actions toward him, even harder than the physical stuff.

The house becomes personified, because this person attacking Chance represents his home and also since there’s at least one other worrisome family member spectating. While the brother might hate him, Chance doesn’t, and that’s why he ultimately lets him proceed with the hitting.

It’s a warning because Chance is on the moral side and his brother isn’t, which in the long run will probably lead to more challenges for the brother in terms of family relationships. While he might try to blame growing up in Oklahoma for his temperament, Chance knows that it’s not an excuse. Regardless, Chance submits to the rural hit.

If I could be the gun on your hip / I’d scratch my name on every bullet in your clip / Bang, bang, bang / Go on and take your aim / ‘Cause brother we got the same blood / Grew up trucking through the same mud / Engines red from the same rust / So what’s in you, is what’s in me

In this final verse, things take a shift. Greyson Chance sings how he has empathy for his brother and how he already had things he hated about himself. They both grew up in the same environment, religion, region, and lifestyle, so if his brother is blaming his actions on his “redneck nature”, then Chance potentially could, too.

Thus, in the final iteration of the chorus, I feel as though Chance is singing about himself in the second person. He’s also the one beating himself up, giving himself a tough time. At the end of the day, it’s all about perspective, reflection, and hope for a better future, with the piano crescendoing into stillness.

(Two, three, four)

The guitar strumming begins, and it’s in a half-step down tuning, with a faint ambient vocal implanting the anticipatory chords. It’s like taking a step back from camaraderie, a seat in front of someone in their old living room, to hear an untold heart-wrenching story.

Oh, to be a hand on your wrist / Squeezing that shit until it opened up your fist / I, oh I / Tried to be a friend to you, but / Now we're rolling on the ground cracking ribs, kicking dust up / Mama said, “Quit it” / But you never really listen

In this first verse, Greyson Chance describes how it’s come to a point in which his brother’s hand has the potential to do some damage. And not just any damage — damage within the family. Normally, when I think of hands, I think of them as delicate and beautiful, but here, it’s the opposite, initiating harm and unleashing fury. Chance’s brother doesn’t bother to listen to their mother, either, who unsuccessfully tries to stop the fight.

I can feel the blood rush to my head / It was a gut punch, when you said / I wasn’t no one / Boy you hit a homerun / I can feel the house shake / Screaming at me ’til your jaw breaks / I know you hate me, but I’ll warn ya / Boy I’ll always love ya / So go ahead and blame it on your redneck nature / Hey brother hit me with your haymaker

This chorus is packed with action, outlining the progression of the fight. Interestingly, “gut punch” sounds a bit like “fruit punch”, which is also a bright red color, just like blood. The attacker words — that Chance is no one — is the “homerun”, meaning those words hit the hardest out of any of his hateful actions toward him, even harder than the physical stuff.

The house becomes personified, because this person attacking Chance represents his home and also since there’s at least one other worrisome family member spectating. While the brother might hate him, Chance doesn’t, and that’s why he ultimately lets him proceed with the hitting.

It’s a warning because Chance is on the moral side and his brother isn’t, which in the long run will probably lead to more challenges for the brother in terms of family relationships. While he might try to blame growing up in Oklahoma for his temperament, Chance knows that it’s not an excuse. Regardless, Chance submits to the rural hit.

If I could be the gun on your hip / I’d scratch my name on every bullet in your clip / Bang, bang, bang / Go on and take your aim / ‘Cause brother we got the same blood / Grew up trucking through the same mud / Engines red from the same rust / So what’s in you, is what’s in me

In this final verse, things take a shift. Greyson Chance sings how he has empathy for his brother and how he already had things he hated about himself. They both grew up in the same environment, religion, region, and lifestyle, so if his brother is blaming his actions on his “redneck nature”, then Chance potentially could, too.

Thus, in the final iteration of the chorus, I feel as though Chance is singing about himself in the second person. He’s also the one beating himself up, giving himself a tough time. At the end of the day, it’s all about perspective, reflection, and hope for a better future, with the piano crescendoing into stillness.