I’ve worn the dust of a thousand roads, I’ve slept beneath their skies, I’ve learned the taste of iron and the truth behind a lie. I’ve held a woman through the night, I’ve held a dying flame, I’ve watched the strongest things I knew fall whispering to shame. I’ve been the hand that wouldn’t shake, the heart that wouldn’t bend, I’ve walked into the darkest rooms and walked back out again. And every scar I’ve carried home had something left to say: “Boy, you ain’t done bleeding yet, so don’t you waste the day.” Rubble, rain, mud and blood, that’s the gospel that I know. You lose a little, give a little, learn a little as you go. Rubble, rain, mud and blood, let the wicked weather come. I’ve been broken down before, and I ain’t finished becoming. I’ve loved too hard, I’ve worked too long, I’ve stayed when I should run. But every time the night says “fall,” I answer, “Not this one.” I’ve known the kind of midnight that can make a good man stray, the kind that puts a woman’s hand around the truth and pulls away. I’ve tasted lips like bitter wine, I’ve slept beside regret, and learned that some of life’s sweetest sins are the ones you don’t forget. I’ve given more than I could spare, I’ve taken less than owed, I’ve carried men who couldn’t stand and walked them down the road. And somewhere in the wreckage, when the last light disappears, you learn the difference between a wound and what you call your years. Rubble, rain, mud and blood, that’s the gospel that I know. You lose a little, give a little, learn a little as you go. Rubble, rain, mud and blood, let the wicked weather come. I’ve been broken down before, and I ain’t finished becoming. I’ve loved too hard, I’ve worked too long, I’ve stayed when I should run. But every time the night says “fall,” I answer, “Not this one.” Yesterday the iron found me where I thought that I was safe, and for one bright little second I could see beyond the pain. There was crimson on the metal, there was thunder in my head, and I laughed because the living never bargain with the dead. The flesh may swell, the bone may ache, the blood may leave its stain, but pain is just another tongue I’ve learned to entertain. For I’ve sat beside worse demons than the ones that bite the hand, and I’ve looked into their empty eyes and told them where I stand. So let the rain come down on me. Let every black cloud gather. I’ve been loved by crueler things and held by darker weather. There are ghosts beneath my skin that still remember my name, but I have learned to dance with them when they come calling in the rain. I ain’t a saint, I ain’t a fool, I ain’t the man I was, I’ve lost some things I shouldn’t have and loved some things because. I’ve made my peace with broken doors, with blood beneath the nail, with every woman who could make a strong man beg and still prevail. And if tomorrow brings me back to where the hard things start, I’ll bring the hands that built me up and this stubborn, beating heart. For there ain’t no clean road through this life, no painless way to grow you pay the dark what it is owed, then keep on moving slow. Rubble, rain, mud and blood, that’s the gospel that I know. You lose a little, give a little, learn a little as you go. Rubble, rain, mud and blood, let the wicked weather come. I’ve been broken down before, and I ain’t finished becoming. I’ve loved too hard, I’ve worked too long, I’ve stayed when I should run. And every time the night says “fall,” I answer, “Not this one.” I’ve got mud beneath my boots, I’ve got blood beneath my skin, I’ve got ghosts beneath my ribs that I never let me win. So pour another cup of rain, let the whole damned darkness flood. I’ve got nothing left to prove just rubble, rain, mud and blood.
