ramblin man

from by Chelsey Weber-Smith

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I was born a rambling man
born right onto a road
with no idea where it goes
knife at my hip, and smoke in my hands

But what they saw was a little princess
blue eyes and blonde curls
fair as any girl
but they don’t know how red my skin gets
or how red

when I’m out in the sun
in the back of a truck
and I believe in love
even when it treats me real rough

the sun knows all my secrets
even when it goes down
the moon hangs around
and I beg him but he just can’t keep them

So here I stand in the broad light of day
even thing I’ve become
goes soft in the sun
and I could cry at any stranger’s face

cause I’m gone in my heart
the passenger seat of a car
a old man with white scars
is telling me everything he’s loved

I know just who I am
but I don’t know if I can
make life from the land
with just my two hands
But oh, I will try
Lord by and by
all that is real
is at the edge of the field
I loved you most
when you were a ghost
but now that you’re here
I only feel fear

I was born staring up at the black
born dirty and tired
by an dying campfire
all superstition with no trust in fact


from gold house, released January 5, 2016



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Chelsey Weber-Smith Seattle, Washington

suburban sad sack outlaw country

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