Full Circle

This track comes from the Lowcountry marshes where Aaron found wisdom knee-deep in pluff mud. It tackles The title track and grand finale. Standing on Folly Beach, looking at the ocean that the Navy showed him, in the town where he built his company, in the life that connects every dot. The moment it all makes sense.. The lyrics get specific — "The Navy was the first turn of the circle, heading out" — because personal tracks on Majik's are personal for real, not performatively. The orchestral production matches the energy of the confession. It hits triumphant and emotional climax, in that order. Every personal track in the catalogue comes from a real moment, a real feeling, a real person. This one is no exception.

[verse 1] I'm standing on the beach where the circle closes soft The same Atlantic Ocean that the Navy gave me, aloft On a ship when I was eighteen, scared and barely breathing Now I'm thirty-something, barefoot, and I'm finally believing That every wave that broke on every shore I've ever known Was pulling me in circles, pulling me back home To Folly Beach, to Charleston, to the eight-four-three To the man I was supposed to be, standing here, just me [verse 2] The Navy was the first turn of the circle, heading out Into the dark, into the deep, into the doubt Then DoD, the civilian turn, the discipline applied To systems bigger than myself, where the mission was the guide Then the startup, the wild turn, the one that made them stare Magic Unicorn? A Navy vet? The audacity, the dare And now the music, the creative turn, the one they didn't see Coming from the technologist who built the company [chorus] Full circle, it was always coming back to here Full circle, every doubt, every fear Was just the radius, just the distance needed To swing around and find the place I seeded Every dream, every three AM, every line of code Full circle, every mile on every road Led back to this beach, this breath, this sound Full circle, I've come back around [verse 3] The kid in boot camp is here, I feel him in my chest The sailor on the ship is here, he never left The heartbreak is here, the grief is here, the weight is here too But so is the lighter version, the one who finally grew Into all of them at once, the composite, the whole The full circle of a life that bet everything on its soul Dear younger me, I made it here, the kitchen table knows The porch light's on, the coffee's hot, the tide comes and it goes [chorus] Full circle, it was always coming back to here Full circle, every doubt, every fear Was just the radius, just the distance needed To swing around and find the place I seeded Every dream, every three AM, every line of code Full circle, every mile on every road [bridge] And if I get another turn around the sun I'll run the circle wider, I'll build another one Platform, company, album, whatever comes next The circle keeps expanding like the universe expects Of someone who was told he couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't make it The circle answers back: I took it, and I didn't fake it Every sunrise on this beach is a standing ovation For a life lived full circle from the ground up, no vacation From the grind, from the love, from the weight and the wonder From the sailor, from the founder, from the lightning and the thunder [final chorus] Full circle, Aaron Stransky, OG Unicorn Full circle, from the day that I was born To the man who stands on Folly Beach and finally understands That the circle was the point, not the destination planned Full circle, and the thread is gold and bright Full circle, from the boot camp to the light Full circle, and I'd do it all again Every circle starts with a single step, and then [outro] You just keep walking And one day You look up And you're right back where you started But you're not the same You're not the same at all Full circle Aaron made it full circle And the circle keeps going And going And going [spoken] To everyone still in their first turn of the circle: Keep going. It all connects. I promise. OG Unicorn Magic Unicorn Technology Folly Beach, South Carolina Do More With Less Always