From the Album CrossRoads by Stronz / Astro3000. Everything have a beginning and here starts the tale of Old Sam .
rock
blues
guitar
Story behind the song
CrossRoads is a Jurney into what nightmare life can be. A life experience that that is haunting the essence of life but also give something bak , in the form of advice on what not to to do .
Lyrics
Old Bar
(Verse 1)
Underneath the neon glow, where the shadows start to weave,
There's a tale of broken dreams, in every heart that grieves.
Whiskey's poured like memories, the jukebox sings a tune,
In this old country bar, we dance beneath the moon.
(Chorus)
In the old country bar, where the good meets the bad,
Playing games with a gun, oh, the memories we had.
With the bullet fire ringing, in the air so heavy and cold,
Well raise a glass to the stories, that never grow old.
(Verse 2)
The old hangout's calling, where the lost souls roam free,
Every face a story, of whats come to be.
Sippin on our regrets, as the night drags along,
In this flickering candlelight, we find where we belong.
(Chorus)
In the old country bar, where the good meets the bad,
Playing games with a gun, oh, the memories we had.
With the bullet fire ringing, in the air so heavy and cold,
Well raise a glass to the stories, that never grow old.
(Bridge)
And the devil deals the cards, in this smoky haze,
While the angels watch from shadows, caught in a twisted maze.
A final showdown's coming, under the stars up high,
With a heart full of thunder, and a head full of why.
(Chorus)
In the old country bar, where the good meets the bad,
Playing games with a gun, oh, the memories we had.
With the bullet fire ringing, in the air so heavy and cold,
Well raise a glass to the stories, that never grow old.
(Outro)
The old hangout's calling, where the lost souls roam free,
Every face a story, of whats come to be.
Sippin on our regrets, as the night drags along,
In this flickering candlelight, we find where we belong.
So heres to the laughter, and heres to the scars,
In the heart of the night, at the old country bar.
With the bullet fire ringing, let the truth be told,
In the old country bar, our tales never grow old.
In the old country bar, our tales never grow old.
In the old country bar, our tales never grow old.
In the old country bar, where the good meets the bad,
Playing games with a gun, oh, the memories we had.
With the bullet fire ringing, in the air so heavy and cold,
Well raise a glass to the stories, that never grow old
So heres to the laughter, and heres to the scars,
In the heart of the night, at the old country bar.
With the bullet fire ringing, let the truth be told,
In the old country bar, our tales never grow old.