Lyrics

Sunrise over Mulholland, another day begins. 
Another pitch meeting, another stack of sins
. I got my worn out Stetson, hidin' bloodshot eyes
. Tryna sell 'em dreams of gold, beneath these manufactured skies.


Used to write 'bout heartbreak, dust, and dying slow. 
Songs about the wind that whispers, where the tumbleweeds all go. 
Now they want explosions, a love that's sugar sweet
. Got to squeeze the real out, 'fore I'm standin' on my feet


Hollywood's a graveyard, for voices lost and low
Tradin' truth for silver screens, where the fake can always grow
I'm buildin' flimsy castles, on a foundation built on sand. 
Just a lonely troubadour, in the promised, broken land.


Yeah, I met a studio exec, said he loved my "grit" and "soul" 
But the only soul they care about, is one they can control
. He wants a happy ending, a hero shining bright
. While I'm seein' shadows lengthen, through the California night.


So I'll keep on punchin' words out, 'til the whiskey takes its toll. 
Another script, another lie, to feed this empty hole
. Maybe one day I'll escape, back to the desert floor. 
Leave these plastic palaces, and never write no more.


Hollywood's a graveyard, for voices lost and low. 
Tradin' truth for silver screens, where the fake can always grow. 
I'm buildin' flimsy castles, on a foundation built on sand. 
Just a lonely troubadour, in the promised, broken land.


Just a lonely troubadour… beneath these Hollywood stars…