[Verse 1]
I wake each morning to a rooster’s call,
Stumble down a long dark hall,
An empty kitchen with a full pot of coffee,
No cream, no sugar, just a pinch of toffee.
[Verse 2]
Life has dealt me a loser’s hand,
My wife has left me, so has my band.
My children quit calling long ago.
It’s been years since I played my last show.
[Prechorus]
I rise to the call of a Dutch Bantam rooster
Retire to the melody of the Whip-poor-will.
Passing my days on a bourbon booster
Sweet sounds of nature, my only thrill.
[Chorus]
Crawling through shadows
My struggle never ends
I’ve lost my footing
No love, no friends
Grief in my pocket
Faith on the floor
I’ve stopped banging
On life’s golden door
[Verse 3]
My royalties dried up long ago,
Living off autographs and artifacts
Of a man once called the world’s greatest show
But nothing was real, it was all just acts.
[Verse 4]
They called me a prodigy, a musical genius,
A star with hits on both sides of the pond.
A drug crazed talent living intravenous
Who had it all until he burned out and bombed
[Prechorus]
I rise to the call of a Dutch Bantam rooster
Retire to the melody of the Whip-poor-will.
Passing my days on a bourbon booster
Sweet sounds of nature, my only thrill.
[Chorus]
Crawling through shadows
My struggle never ends
I’ve lost my footing
No love, no friends
Grief in my pocket
Faith on the floor
I’ve stopped banging
On life’s golden door
[Instrumental interlude]
[Bridge]
The bottle’s my anchor but it pulls me down
Wearing my grief like a thorny crown
Dad’s old watch stopped ticking last year
Mom’s voice still echoes but I can’t hear.
[Verse 5]
They’ve all left me, either dead or gone
Now I sit here all alone
Rusting away in these Blue Ridge woods
Not playing again, even if I could.
[Final Chorus]
The whiskey burns
But it doesn’t heal
Just numbs the ache
Makes nothing real
My walls close in
The light won’t stay
Every prayer seems like its miles away
I no longer know the time of day
I wait on the Whip-poor-will to signal the time,
To pack it in for the day
or when to end this rhyme.
Copyright December 4, 2025, by Stephen Craig Whitley – All Rights Reserved
