Sound
Country, male singer with southern accent, guitars, violin, mandolin, Soulful, Melodic, Playful, Acoustic guitar strums, Passionate,
Lyrics
(Simple, steady guitar intro - reminiscent of "Folsom Prison Blues")
(Verse 1)
The sun dips low, paints the cornfields gold
Just like the ring she promised me she'd hold.
Fool's gold, I reckon. That's about the size of it.
This ache in my chest feels like a lead weight, bit by bit.
(Verse 2)
We sat on the porch swing, swore 'til kingdom come,
That our love was a river, forever on the run.
Now the river's dried up, cracked and turned to dust.
She found another stream, guess my well ran out of trust.
(Verse 3)
Ain't gonna rail, ain't gonna shout and scream.
This ain't the kind of pain that fits in a violent dream.
Just a quiet knowing, a slow burn in my soul.
She traded my truth for a lie, and broke the sacred whole.
(Verse 4)
The crickets are hummin' a mournful, weary tune.
The moon's a pale witness, hangin' in the afternoon sky soon.
Time heals, they say. Time mends a broken bone.
But this ain't about bones, this is about bein' alone.
(Verse 5)
I'll pack my bags, leave this town behind.
Try to find some peace, some solace for my mind.
Maybe out West, where the mountains touch the sky,
I can leave this memory, and learn again to fly.
(Outro)
(Guitar fades out slowly, leaving a single, lingering note)
Just gotta learn to fly… again.
(Verse 1)
The sun dips low, paints the cornfields gold
Just like the ring she promised me she'd hold.
Fool's gold, I reckon. That's about the size of it.
This ache in my chest feels like a lead weight, bit by bit.
(Verse 2)
We sat on the porch swing, swore 'til kingdom come,
That our love was a river, forever on the run.
Now the river's dried up, cracked and turned to dust.
She found another stream, guess my well ran out of trust.
(Verse 3)
Ain't gonna rail, ain't gonna shout and scream.
This ain't the kind of pain that fits in a violent dream.
Just a quiet knowing, a slow burn in my soul.
She traded my truth for a lie, and broke the sacred whole.
(Verse 4)
The crickets are hummin' a mournful, weary tune.
The moon's a pale witness, hangin' in the afternoon sky soon.
Time heals, they say. Time mends a broken bone.
But this ain't about bones, this is about bein' alone.
(Verse 5)
I'll pack my bags, leave this town behind.
Try to find some peace, some solace for my mind.
Maybe out West, where the mountains touch the sky,
I can leave this memory, and learn again to fly.
(Outro)
(Guitar fades out slowly, leaving a single, lingering note)
Just gotta learn to fly… again.