Spy slips through the shadows with a glint of clever lies, Disguises change like weather, sharp as a blade of spite. Heavy drums a thunderstorm, minigun singing loud and clear, While Pyro breathes a furnace chorus that drifts into the air. Scout darts a quick rhythm, double-time on every lane, Sniper threads a quiet fable, patience feeding aim. Engineer hums a lullaby of circuits, ladders, and bright steel, While Medic braids a chorus of courage, wounds slowly heal.

Pre-Chorus We guard the point, we chase the flag till dawn’s first light, We tilt the map with strategy, we grind the gears just right. From capture to domination, every beacon finds its flame, The map becomes our memory, the class our claim to fame.

Chorus We ride the payload of dreams through a city of old glass and grit, Where every class writes stories in the dust and the spit. Cries of “you’re fireproof!” mix with laughter in the rain, TF2 forever calling, a pulse we can’t explain. From 2Fort’s cobbles to the hills where banners fly, We fight with a wink and a banner in the sky. Cries of “keep your head down” and “watch your back, lad,” Together we rise, together we stand, never sad.

Bridge When the whistle blows and the arena glows blue and red, We trade the ordinary for legends left unread. The hats, the sprays, the taunts, the cheers in every lane, A chorus of misfits, hand in hand we stake our claim.