My Boots Hit The Stage

R.Reynolds, ASCAP@2014


Black skies

Pink neon lights

I pull my hoodie down

Over my red eyes

Grey buildings

Growing in the distance

Bars on the doors

Seems like pretty shady business.

Dead end broke

Lighting up my last smoke

So this is Music City

Where I end up alone.

3 day stubble

One step ahead of trouble

I never looked back

People bursting my bubble. 


And when the lights come up

I put my boots on the stage

In the scratches and the scuff marks

I stand in the shadows

Flirting  (romancing) with fame

Sweat (whiskey) stains on the floor boards

Where all the big stars played.



My old guitar

I’m a backpack slave

I checked into The Drake

Where CMT stars stay

8 by 10’s

With phony autographs

That kid from Deliverance

Scratching at his pants.

Tourists on tour

Watching steel guitar bands

I hear the laughter out loud

Of the money changing hands.

Warm 50 cent canned beer

Sitting on a stool

Did I finally find the ocean

Or another cesspool?  


It’s depressing at the hotel

Even lonelier on stage

I come a thousand miles

And 40 plus years

Finding those rhymes

Breathing life into a blank page


I don’t sing happy

But I can write a sad song

I can’t call collect

Cause there ain’t nobody home

I left that joke

Indiana stale and old

Where folks are drunk or dead

And some are just both.

My ears crammed full

AM radio past

I hear the music in the mountains

Played by ancient man

But I lost that spark

I fumbled on that note

Somewhere along the road

I lied to my soul.