Past My Prime

[Verse 1]
Coffee gone cold on the counter
Same dented thermos by the door
Used to run when the sirens called me
Now they don’t call much anymore
Streetlights flicker in my memory
Red and blue painted on the dark
Smoke on my hands, blood on my jacket
Names I still carry in my heart
[Chorus]
I’m past my prime and the phone’s gone quiet
Hands still shake when the wind blows hard
Pulled kids out of burning houses
Cut steel open like it was paper and straw
I saved lives once, now I’m just tired
Clock on the wall keeps dragging time
But those faces, those nights, those voices
Are the demons that won’t leave my mind
[Verse 2]
Hundred-hour weeks, no sleeping
Boots by the bed, half-laced
I’d give my back, my bones, my future
For one more stranger I could save
Now I just stare at the ceiling
Hear glass break in every rain
Every thunderclap’s a collision
Every quiet minute feels like blame
[Chorus]
I’m past my prime and the phone’s gone quiet
Hands still shake when the wind blows hard
Pulled kids out of burning houses
Cut steel open like it was paper and straw
I saved lives once, now I’m just tired
Clock on the wall keeps dragging time
But those faces, those nights, those voices
Are the demons that won’t leave my mind
[Bridge]
Tell me what good is a hero
When the fires all move inside
Can’t save the man in the mirror
Though I’ve tried and tried and tried (oh God, I’ve tried)
[Chorus]
I’m past my prime and the phone’s gone quiet
Hands still shake when the wind blows hard
Pulled kids out of burning houses
Cut steel open like it was paper and straw
I saved lives once, now I’m just tired
Clock on the wall keeps dragging time
And the demons I kept from other people
Are the demons that call me by name in the night

country, Gritty slow-burn country ballad, male vocals. Fingerpicked acoustic and dusty baritone guitar, low swung tempo with brushed snare and a worn upright bass. Verses stay intimate and close-mic’d, chorus widens with distant slide guitar cries and subtle church organ. Vocal grows rougher and more desperate toward the bridge, ending on a raw, almost spoken confession that fades over a single guitar chord., slow