Saddle & Smoke (Rock)

...

I built this chair from an old worn saddle,

Leather cracked from a lifetime of dust.

Now it holds the weight of an outlaw,

And every scar I earned with trust.

Tin roof singing with the pouring rain,

Old pine walls breathing whiskey and smoke.

This shack ain't much to a city man,

But it's where broken souls stay unbroke.

I'm sitting on a saddle that forgot the trail,

Glass of whiskey burning slow as hell.

No preacher's words, no judge's chain,

Just thunder rolling through my veins.

If the devil comes, he knows my name—

I'll pour him one and curse the flame.

Every knot in this weathered wood

Knows stories I don't have to tell.

Some men chase a crown of gold,

I carved my throne straight out of hell.

Coyotes cry beyond the fence,

Moon hangs low like a hangman's grin.

Got more ghosts than good intentions,

Still I wear this outlaw skin.

I'm sitting on a saddle that forgot the trail,

Glass of whiskey burning slow as hell.

No preacher's words, no judge's chain,

Just thunder rolling through my veins.

If the devil comes, he knows my name—

I'll pour him one and curse the flame.

Ain't asking mercy. Ain't begging fate.

Steel don't cry and I don't break.

When my last match burns to black,

Bury me where the buzzards track.

Lay this saddle across my stone,

So Heaven knows I rode alone.

I'm sitting in this old shack, whiskey in my hand,

Built my kingdom on forgotten land.

The fire dies, but not this soul,

Born too wild to ever fold.

When the darkness calls my final ride,

I'll meet it laughing, full of pride.

...