West Valley Dust

This salty dust is wearin’ down my boots, West Valley sun burns truth into my roots. Ain’t no radio tune gonna save my soul, Just this old guitar and a heart that’s whole. Dug myself a hole so deep, no light to see, Only way out’s to rise, to the top, to be free. West Valley dust on my strings, I still sing, Outlaw heart’s my crown, I’m the small-town king. Clout-chasers fade where the red dirt lies, But my dreams burn bright under endless skies. One-upped the odds, built my boat from scratch, This fightin’ soul ain’t never lookin’ back. Every scar’s a story, every note’s a fight, Singin’ for the lost ones in the West Valley night. From the dust I rise, with a fire that won’t stop, Dug my way to hell, now I’m climbin’ to the top.

©Truth Tunes™