Lyrics: Caronte 2025 Youtube: Inoxidables Podcast Podcast go.ivoox.com/sq/2330386 My bones creak like these old guitar strings, Sixty winters howlin’ through these rusty frets. Chicago snow to Memphis rain, Blues carved deep where the soul’s chained. Ain’t no rest for a six-string ghost, These calloused hands crave the pain the most. Bury me broke, but leave my axe tuned — Life’s a juke joint… I’ll die ..mid-verse Bought a porch where the cicadas scream, But silence here just drowns the dream. Crystal walls don’t sing the truth — My tomb’s a stage, my epitaph… the blues Let my last breath bend a low C note, Die mid-shuffle with my boots still on the road. Carve my name on a warped neck’s wood: Here lies the fool who played till it hurt good. Let my last breath bend a low C note, Die mid-shuffle with my boots still on the road. Carve my name on a warped neck’s wood: Here lies the fool who played till it hurt good.
