Trauma

I woke up to the sound of a broken chain,

Rust on my fingers, dust in my veins.

The road calls me back, no time to stay,

With every mile, something slips away.

Rust and dust, that's all we leave behind,

A trail of broken pieces, in the back of our mind.

We ride the wind, we chase the sun,

In this life of blues, there's nowhere to run.

Old guitar strums, but the strings are worn,

Every note's a memory of something torn.

The Mississippi river, she's callin' my name,

But the water's dry, ain't no one to blame.

Rust and dust, that's all we leave behind,

A trail of broken pieces, in the back of our mind.

We ride the wind, we chase the sun,

In this life of blues, there's nowhere to run.

Gravel in my shoes, heart on the line,

Whiskey’s my friend, but it won’t buy me time.

The open road whispers, “Son, don’t you slow,"

But the shadows behind me—they just grow and grow.

Rust and dust, that's all we leave behind,

A trail of broken pieces, in the back of our mind.

We ride the wind, we chase the sun,

In this life of blues, there's nowhere to run.

Rust and dust, we turn to stone,

In this world of blues, you walk alone.