High Desert Sky

Introduction

I call myself a songwriter’s poet

One that thinks modern poetry sounds like shit

One that hates a predictable overused lyric

One that hates perfect people music

I could care less if it’s right to rhyme at the perfect time

Because I’m more concerned about capturing minds

With the perfect storyline about lust crimes

With dead red roses and spilled blood wine

I took a trip to Austin Texas recently

I went there without a single preconceived

Completely void of any vacation logic

Except to chase music and be part of the magic

I came back after a week suffering from exhaustion

With a aching liver from excessive consumption

And the unmistakable look of sleep deprivation

But I was overflowing with inspiration and validation

I didn’t hear anyone play a worn-out cover

About the bar scene or the perfect lover

I didn’t hear the same old music recipe

That can make a storyteller’s ears bleed

I didn’t hear anyone trying to be someone in Nashville

They were all just poets with stories to tell

Stories that needed to be told with a six string

Stories that made old cowboys want to Texas swing

Stories that that make you think about life

Stories that can find truth in an elaborate lie

Stories that weren’t edited by a record label executive

Who wouldn’t know shit if he stepped in it

I say God bless Texas

And all the Texas poets

Who play the game their way

Who aren’t afraid to say

Nashville can kiss my poetic storytellers ass

So screw you we love Texas