Wrong roads, right people

Fired up the engine at sunrise,

my Harley growled like a dog in pain.

Empty roads and smoky skies,

just another ride with no clear aim.

Yeah, I took the wrong direction,

more times than I can count...

But the ones who rode beside me,

never once turned around.

Wrong roads, right people,

cold beer and the wind on my face.

If fate’s a bar with no name,

we walk in like we own the place.

Yeah, we missed a thousand trains,

but never a toast with our gang.

Broken signs and torn-up maps,

we laughed through every twisted night.

Burnin' rubber on lost dreams,

but our hearts still beat just right.

Every curve’s another story,

every scar a toast to the fight.

And if tomorrow stays a question,

tonight the beer tastes just right.

Wrong roads, right people,

cold beer and the wind on my face.

If fate’s a bar with no name,

we walk in like we own the place.

Yeah, we missed a thousand trains,

but never a toast with our gang.

And the night falls like leather black,

on shoulders worn by one more mistake.

But there’s music in those roaring engines,

and peace at the bottom of the glass.

Wrong roads, right people,

cold beer and the wind on my face.

If the world’s crashing down behind us,

let’s ride with the throttle in place.

Yeah, wrong turns and darker skies,

but brothers and beer never lie.