Boston to the Blue Skies

A minimalist acoustic singer-songwriter track featuring only solo male deep vocals and a lone acoustic guitar, Clean, close-miked guitar supports the intimate vocal, with dry production preserving every detail and dynamic, No drums, bass, percussion, or keyboards; pure, direct, and unembellished

(Verse 1) Boston just turned gray, The salt is on the streets. I logged my hours out, The deadline must be met. My rig, the mighty Kenworth, Is packed and fueled and clean. I kissed my sister goodbye, Heard the sorrow in her scream. (Pre-Chorus) No time for tears today: My trailer’s heavy freight. I gotta hit the highway now, Can't let the paycheck wait. (Chorus) This 18-wheeler breathes, The diesel consumes my pain. I’m stuck in Los Santos, But in my heart, you remain. I’m not far away, I’m rolling for our luck, My son, my sister, I'm coming back in this truck. (Verse 2) Across the endless plains, I crossed the Mississippi wide. I took the last delivery, Left Boston far behind. The sun bakes down on Vegas, Now Vinewood is near. The smog of Los Santos, Says, "Welcome, trucker, here." (Pre-Chorus) No time for tears today: My trailer’s heavy freight. I gotta hit the highway now, Can't let the paycheck wait. (Chorus) This 18-wheeler breathes, The diesel consumes my pain. I’m stuck in Los Santos, But in my heart, you remain. I’m not far away, I’m rolling for our luck, My son, my sister, I'm coming back in this truck. (Bridge) They think this is adventure, They don't know the sacrifice. I trade the family dinners, For the asphalt and the ice. But every single mile, Is logged to make you proud. You're the gasoline, Underneath my heavy cloud. (Chorus) , But in my heart, you remain. I’m not far away, I’m rolling for our luck, My son, my sister, I'm coming back in this truck.

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