Under Western Skies by Tennessee Wayne

[Verse 1] I used to walk the asphalt where the semis scream and moan Crossed over 8 Mile in a haze, a thousand miles from home Purple syrup in a styrofoam cup, a slow-motion kind of blind Nearly left my boots imprint on a Peterbilt's grill design. But there ain’t no trucks out here tonight, just the stillness and the space A long, long way from Tennessee, looking for a saving grace. Now I'm a walking man in a sandbox, just kicking at the stone Stumbling through the sagebrush, like a complete unknown. [Chorus] And those damn coyotes are yapping, ripping up the quiet night They give me a hissy fit under the cold, pale starry light I ain't got no peaceful easy feeling, just a pocket full of sighs And a bleeding pair of lacerated shins, out under Western skies. [Verse 2] I’m thinking 'bout my girl back yonder, the one with the vacant stare Smoked cigarettes by the carton, bleach blonde tangled hair with needle tracks on both her arms, a mind cooked on the stove But I swear to God I loved her, just like all the rest I loved. She had a monkey on her back, a habit she couldn't break Just staring straight through plaster, waiting for the floor to shake. Now I'm tearing up my denim on a Cholla cactus spine Bleeding in the gravel, trying to get her off my mind. [Chorus] While those damn coyotes are yapping, ripping up the quiet night They give me a hissy fit under the cold, pale starry light I ain't got no peaceful easy feeling, just a pocket full of sighs And a bleeding pair of lacerated shins, out under Western skies. [Bridge] They say the desert’s safe because the traffic cannot reach But the shadows here have talons, and the wind has got a speech. No semi-truck can hit me, no brake lines gonna shriek But the silence is so heavy that it makes my knees go weak. Old Scratch is on the horizon, strumming on a cigar box box strings Mocking every lonesome lyric that a walking man sings. [Verse 3] The syrup’s finally wearing off, the desert air is cold A million stars above me looking ancient, mean, and old. I’m just a ghost in blue jeans, pulling thorns out of my skin Wondering where the highway ends and the madness must begin. There is no known out here, just the cactus and the dirt And the memory of a wide-eyed girl who taught me how to hurt. [Chorus] And those damn coyotes are yapping, ripping up the quiet night They give me a hissy fit under the cold, pale starry light No, I ain't got no peaceful easy feeling, just a pocket full of sighs Just a bleeding pair of lacerated shins, out under Western skies. [Outro] Yeah, under Western skies... Watch your step, Wayne. The thorns'll get ya if the memory don't. Just keep walking