Pall Mall Smoke

[Verse 1]  
Backroads since sixteen, dust on the dashboard Bible,  
Bottle half-gone, half the pages marked for survival.  
Neon flickers like a dying star over county lines,  
Barstool prophets preach the same old lies.  

[Pre-Chorus]  
Strike the match, watch the Pall Mall cherry burn slow,  
Only sacrament this backslider knows.  

[Chorus]  
Reachin' for the arms of Christ in the Pall Mall smoke,  
Cross swingin' wild like a noose on a broke-down spoke.  
Mercy tastes like cheap whiskey, burns clean through the night,  
Devil's dialin' my number under barroom light.  
Arms of Christ… in the smoke…  
Holdin' tight… though I'm half-gone broke.  

[Verse 2]  
Mama whispered redemption when the bottle kissed the floor,  
Daddy just poured silence, said we all been poor.  
Traded pews for neon scars and Friday-night regret,  
Every tattoo's a prayer I ain't paid for yet.  

[Pre-Chorus]  
Inhale deep, let the ashes drift like fallen grace,  
Rearview ghosts whisperin' I can't outrun this place.  

[Chorus]  
Reachin' for the arms of Christ in the Pall Mall smoke,  
Faded Bible verses glowin' on a jukebox that's broke.  
Grace comes tangled in barbed wire and chains,  
Lights dim low, jukebox fades—He still knows my name.  
Arms of Christ… in the smoke…  
Still reachin'… through the years I threw away.  

[Bridge – drop to sparse acoustic/Tele arpeggios, lap-steel hums low, vocal softens to near-whisper then builds quiet intensity]  
What if these hands ain't worth holdin', stained black from the start?  
What if the light I'm chasin' already gave up on my heart?  
Every drag feels like confessin' to a God who might not reply,  
But the smoke curls slow like a question—am I too far gone to try?  

[Final Chorus – build with lap-steel swell, no huge drop, just rawer harmony layers]  
Drownin' in the arms of Christ in the Pall Mall smoke,  
Tattooed hallelujahs caught in words I never spoke.  
He don't ask for clean hands or a spotless slate,  
Just pulls me through the gray cloud, says it's never too late.  
Arms of Christ… yeah, in the smoke…  
Open wide… still callin'… still broke.  

[Outro – sparse Tele twang fade, faint steel whine, exhaled breath]  
One last drag…  
One last amen…  
Right here… in the smoke.

Outlaw Country, Alt-Country, Post-Grunge, Gritty Redemption, Road-Worn Melancholy, Sin And Grace Tension, Barroom Confes