[Intro – Slide guitar moans, heartbeat drums, soft organ hums beneath the silence. No build, no full chords—just tension.] [Spoken – steady, worn voice with gravel] If you’re hearin’ this… I’m gone. Don’t dress it up in church words or marble stones— I’ve fought my fight, blood and bone. My breath gave out before my voice did, And if the wolves come knockin’, boy… you stand. I leave no land, no gold, no name they’ll raise up high. Just pages worn, prayers spent, And a trail of fire you’ve gotta keep lit. [Mid-point – one sung line, cracked and soft, like it’s all he had left to sing] “The ink ain’t dry on the letter I wrote ya…” [Spoken resumes – more ghost, more grit in the voice] I leave you my scars—use ‘em like a map. I leave you the truth—don’t trade it for applause. I leave you the souls I couldn’t reach—go get ‘em. And I leave you my boots… ‘Cause now it’s your turn to walk. [Outro – quieter, fading into final words] Don’t look for me. Look ahead. [End – Let slide guitar hold one long weeping note. No vocals. Let the silence finish the sermon.]
