You’re late

Neon buzzing in the corner

Rain running down the glass

Cheap bourbon in a heavy pour

Trying to make the night last

Door swung open slow and quiet

Cold wind crossed the floor

A stranger in a black hat

Stepped through the barroom door

He sat down right beside me

Like he’d been there all along

Voice low as midnight thunder

Said “Son, your time is gone.”

I said you’re late, my friend

By the next round before we go

Bartender pour that bottle

Let that dark whiskey flow

If I’m walking out with death tonight

I ain’t leaving slow

You’re late, my friend

By the next round before we go

He watched the smoke rise slowly

From the cigarette in my hand

Like he’d seen a thousand endings

Of a thousand different men

Said most folks start their praying

Or they’re begging for some time

I just raised my glass up

And slid his drink down the line

I said if you come to take me

Well at least sit down a while

Every road worth leaving

Deserves a final mile

You’re late, my friend

By the next round before we go

Bartender keep them coming

Let that dark whiskey flow

If the night’s my last companion

Well I’ll face it like I know

You’re late, my friend

By the next round before we go

The jukebox cried a lonely tune

Steel guitar and pain

Two shadows at a barroom

Listening to the rain

He tipped his hat and said to me

“You’re different than the rest”

I said “Death, if you’re collecting souls

Tonight you’ll get one blessed.”