Still in the Game - A Song

Lyrics by Joyce Strong, music by Suno

Still in the Game

[Verse 1]
The rain taps soft on the windowpane
The game’s on mute, but I still watch the frame
Of a world that spins fast, then slows to a crawl
So I sit with the quiet and feel it all

[Verse 2]
I’ve lived through some things that left their mark
Held tight to the truths only found in the dark
Got scars I don’t show, and names I won’t say
But I’m still standin’ here at the end of the day

[Chorus]
Seventy-two rounds, and I still feel the fire
Still movin’ with purpose, no plan to retire
I reach for the quiet where the wild things stand
It’s there I remember the strength in my hand
Let the wind bring the truth, let the rain speak my name—
I’m still here. Still standin’. Still in the game.

[Verse 3]
I don’t chase the noise, don’t beg for applause
I’ve learned how to live with the way that I was
And maybe the nights hit a little bit hard
But I’ve found peace in this weathered old heart

[Bridge – Final Version]
I’ve lost some good people, made peace with the rest
Through the thunder and silence, I’ve always done my best
Learned that love is not a trophy—it takes work, it’s not a game
I’ve learned it’s better to have loved and lost
I’m dealing with the pain

[Final Chorus]
Seventy-two rounds, and I still feel the fire
Still movin’ with purpose, no plan to retire
I reach for the quiet where the wild things stand
It’s there I remember the strength in my hand
Let the wind bring the truth, let the rain speak my name—
I’m still here. Still standin’. Still in the game.

[Outro]
Yeah, the night may be heavy, the world might feel strange
Not the first time I crawled through the eye of a hurricane
Still here. Still standin’. Still in the game

Join My Team

Independent and unbought — a Word Busker who names what others won’t, sustained by readers like you.

You can send a one-time tip on Venmo @joycestrong — every bit helps keep the lights on and the words flowing strong.

Or, if it fits your budget, become a paid subscriber to support ongoing reporting, songs and essays.

And if you choose to become a founding member, I’ll write you a song — a personal thank-you for helping keep this work alive.

— Joyce