The Gate - Keeper's Wager [Verse 1] The gate-keeper leaned on a splintered-wood rail with a grin that was crooked and wide, He bet me a dollar I wouldn't stay seated for even a second of the ride. I looked at the bull, he was breathing out steam like a locomotive-style train, While a sharp-style radiculitis was starting to buzz in the back of my veteran-brain. The silver hair’s matted, the boots are too tight, and the air smells of leather and dust, As I’m placing my faith in a braided-style rope and a heavy-style and a veteran-trust. The Girl with the Travelin' Eyes turned away, she couldn't watch the opening-style gate, While I’m sitting up high on a thousand-pound pile of a local-style and a furry-style fate. [Verse 2] [The bass guitar enters with a deep, "walking" line. Lead guitar plays "stinging" licks between the lines.] The world turned to static, a blur of the brown and the Kentucky-style indigo-sky, I’m a vintage-style bird with a broken-style wing, trying to remember how to fly! It’s a rhythmic-style earthquake, a physical-style punch that I didn't see coming at all, As I’m waiting for the moment the gravity-style decides it’s time for the veteran-fall. The drummer is shouting, but I can’t hear a word over the sound of the thundering-style hooves, In a high-definition battle where nobody wins and everyone-style and a musical-style loses. I’m gripping the handle, I’m holding my breath, I’m a-counting the beats of the clock, While my spine is a-shaking like a rhythmic-style and a heavy-style and a veteran-rock. [Verse 3] [The tempo increases slightly. The harmonica becomes more aggressive and frantic.] I woke up in the dirt with a mouth full of grit and a silence that’s heavy and deep, Thinking: "Eight seconds of glory is a very-style and a painful-style and a mountain to steep." The gate-keeper’s laughing, he’s a-collecting his buck with a local-style and a satisfied-style wink, While I’m looking for a place where a professional-style can sit for a minute and think. The Girl with the Travelin' Eyes is right there, she’s a-brushing the clay from my vest, Giving the ultimate-style and the industrial-style and a veteran-style test. The vintage-style timber is safe in the van, waiting for the evening-style show, While I’m moving real slow-style, with nowhere-style and a musical-style left to go. [Chorus] [Gritty and powerful. Lush vocal harmonies on the refrain.] [Hold! On!] To the rope and the hope in the Kentucky-style sun! [Fall! Down!] But the veteran-style race is never really-style done! The Gate-Keeper’s Wager, let the spirit roar, I’m picking my pride up off the arena-style floor! #superstarband #eugenmusic #bluegrass #cowboy #countrymusic - @eugenmusic