I was born where the sky don't cry,
Where the fields are flat and the angels lie.
Mama sang hymns to a radio ghost,
Papa drank prayers when he needed 'em most.


I got blood on my boots and a name I don't trust,
Every road I've taken has turned back to dust.
My hands are calloused, my dreams are thin,
And the devil don’t knock – he just walks in.


I got dust in my lungs and fire in my chest,
No peace in my soul, no chance to rest.
I ride through the wind with my sins on a rope,
Hangin’ from mercy and swingin’ from hope.




They say redemption's just a song away,
But I’ve sung my voice into judgment day.
The church doors close when I come around,
Guess heaven don’t trust what I drag through town.


Ashes to ashes, I breathe 'em in slow,
Counting my scars where the love used to grow.
If I make it to morning, I’ll ride once again,
Chasin’ the ghost of the man I’ve been.

Dust in my lungs, but thunder in my cry,
No grave can hold me, no preacher knows why.
I ride through the dark like I’m cursed to roam,
But somewhere out there… there's a fire called home.


“The road don’t end. It just forgets your name.”