Silas Crowe - Rust On The Reeds, Stories In The Smoke

There’s rust on the reeds, And I ain’t changed ’em in years. Every note’s a little crooked, But it still pulls out my fears. This old harmonica’s been through hell, Seen the things I won’t repeat, Yeah, the miles and all my failures Live inside this busted beat. So I breathe into the metal, Let the hurt unwind and choke… There’s rust on the reeds, And stories in the smoke. If you hear a man confessin’, Baby, that ain’t no damn joke… It’s just rust on the reeds, And stories in the smoke. I’ve spilled whiskey on these chambers, Bled on the brass more than once. Every draw’s a prayer for mercy, Every blow’s a tired grunt. I ain’t holy, I ain’t honest, But this harp don’t ever lie. And the truth comes out in whispers When the barroom runs dry. So I breathe into the metal, Let the hurt unwind and choke… There’s rust on the reeds, And stories in the smoke. If you hear a man confessin’, Baby, that ain’t no damn joke… It’s just rust on the reeds, And stories in the smoke. Some nights the music saves me, Other nights it pulls me down. But I’ll keep on bendin’ sorrow, And when morning finds me empty, With a heartbeat weak and broke… You’ll still hear rust on the reeds, And stories in the smoke. Yeah, I breathe into the metal, Let the night unclench its choke… There’s rust on the reeds, And stories in the smoke. If redemption ever finds me, Hell, she’ll find a fuckin’ joke… With rust on the reeds, And stories in the smoke…