Verse 1
There’s a mile of blacktop south of town
Where the county line runs cold
Pines grow tight like they’re closing in
No guardrail, no shoulder, just old tar rolled
Two crosses nailed to cedar posts
Names carved deep in oak
Different years but the same sharp bend
And the same white burst of smoke
Verse 2
First was Billy Ray in ’09
Truck wrapped hard ’round pine
Clear sky night, no rain in sight
And he’d been sober all that time
Then came Carter’s youngest boy
Brand new tires that week
Engine still warm when they found the truck
Nose down in the creek
Pre-Chorus
Sheriff says it’s poor design
County won’t claim that stretch
But every time the sirens cry
They’re headed for that bend again
Chorus
Widowmaker Road
Where the gravel keeps its secrets
And the red clay won’t let go
You can ride it slow and steady
Still wind up in the pines below
Yeah, the devil don’t show his face
He just waits where the tall weeds grow
On Widowmaker Road
Verse 3
Folks say headlights flicker there
Like someone tapping brakes
Like a shadow stepping through your beams
Where there ain’t no turn to take
I drove it once past midnight
Just to prove the rumors wrong
Radio cut, my dash lights dimmed
Felt something riding along
Bridge
There ain’t no skid marks on that bend
No shattered glass downstream
Just tire tracks that drift real slow
Like someone guiding something unseen
And every man they pulled from there
Had blood beneath his nails
Like he’d been clawing at the glass
But the window never failed
Final Verse (Twist)
You won’t find a third white cross
And that’s by my design
I tore it down before the sun
Could make the headlines mine
Billy Ray owed more than cash
And Carter’s boy talked loose
That curve don’t kill a single soul
It’s where the chickens come home to roost
I drag ’em to the water’s edge
Ease the wheel just right
Let gravity tell the story
And disappear into the night
Final Chorus (Choir singing)
Widowmaker Road
Yeah, the gravel keeps my secrets
And the red clay won’t let go
They blame it on Widowmaker Road
But I’ve always known
It ain’t cursed land
It’s just a man
That you should never cross
Or be buried in the sand
SilasCrowe