In the twilight's fading glow, down the dusty roads we roam, Found our freedom, lost our home, in the heartlands far from known. With guitars strung across our backs, singing songs of what we owe, We left God in the fields, our spirits painted black. Oh, we're outlaws at heart, with our souls torn apart, Playing folk and blues, in search of truth, in search of art. In the dirt we lost the light, far from God's forgiving sight, Down on the farm, where our dreams took flight. Underneath the willow's shade, where our youthful vows were made, We traded heaven's grace for earthly masquerade. Harmonicas cried the blues, telling tales of worn-out shoes, Of the sacred paths we chose to refuse. Chorus: Oh, we're outlaws at heart, with our souls torn apart, Playing folk and blues, in search of truth, in search of art. In the dirt we lost the light, far from God's forgiving sight, Down on the farm, where our dreams took flight. Bridge: But in the music's mournful cry, there's a call to reach th
