Two PM, Summer Haze

[Chorus] Two PM, summer haze, Al's Tire & Oil sign This old Ford's my throne today, with a crumpled contract line Heat waves dance on asphalt, smell of oil and rust Just a worn-out troubadour, kicking up highway dust [Verse] Three weeks gone, the ink is faded, like the dreams I used to chase Staring at that crab-like sign, stuck in this forgotten place A stray dog gnaws a chip bag, by a vending machine so dead Whispers of a thousand towns, spinning in my head [Pre-Chorus] There's a greasy wrench beside me, a fan that hums and sighs I try to light this cigarette, but it never truly lights No city lights to guide me, no crowd to hear me play Just the drone of cicadas, at the closing of the day [Chorus] Two PM, summer haze, Al's Tire & Oil sign This old Ford's my throne today, with a crumpled contract line Heat waves dance on asphalt, smell of oil and rust Just a worn-out troubadour, kicking up highway dust [Verse] Remember booking that last gig, thought it was gonna be the one Packed my case with hopeful tunes, beneath the setting sun Now the silence is a heavy coat, I can barely wear it through Wondering if this dusty road, is all I'll ever do [Pre-Chorus] This engine's cooled, the chrome is dull, my spirit feels the same Just another nameless stop, playing a forgotten game My fingers trace the worn-out strings, a melody I can't afford Another ghost town symphony, by the roadside, ignored [Chorus] Two PM, summer haze, Al's Tire & Oil sign This old Ford's my throne today, with a crumpled contract line Heat waves dance on asphalt, smell of oil and rust Just a worn-out troubadour, kicking up highway dust [Bridge] Maybe I'll just pack it in, find a steady, normal life Trade this guitar for an apron, and a different kind of strife But the road keeps calling, with its siren song so low And a part of me still believes, there's somewhere left to go [Verse] The dog looks up, a fleeting glance, then back to his salty prize I flick the unlit cigarette, and wipe the sweat from my eyes This diesel air, it fills my lungs, a bitter, sweet perfume Waiting for a change of luck, or just the coming gloom [Outro] The sun bleeds orange through the haze, the road is calling still Just a worn-out troubadour, with a crumpled contract, and a will