Every Scars Got A Name

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[totally spoken Intro no singing— acoustic guitar, glasses clinking faintly in the mix, then silence but the strings, vocalist speak with a smooth semi baritone vibe] Alright Alright. Let’s make this a good one. Lot of brothers and sisters out there with scars that’ll appreciate this thang. so let’s get it right… Duck keep it unplugged. keep the harmony even between All of you. Boomer; keep sticking those drums like they robbed you. Bo; you fiddle that violin. And Duck put ten hertz on my voice . Alright now, let’s do this thang. Every scars got a name. One. One two. One two three. [Verse 1] Corner booth in a roadside bar, Old man nursing one last pour, Leather vest older than the boys shooting pool, Who don't know what his patches were for. He rolls up a sleeve in the neon light, Reads his body like a battle map — Sixty-some years of hell and glory, Written in the ink of every gap. [Chorus — second male voice low in harmony, female voice mourning soft underneath] 'Cause every scar's got a name, Every scar's got a story, Some were cut in blood and flame, Some in love, some in glory. He don't talk much, don't need to say — The proof's carved in deep and it don't fade, Smooth skin's for men who never came to play... Every scar's got a name. [Verse 2 — the knuckles] These crooked knuckles? Amarillo, '78, Twelve Bandits and a bar full of pride, He stood back to back with his road-dog Bear, Swinging chains till the law arrived. Bear's gone now — put him in the ground in '02 — But when his fist aches on a cold, hard rain, He smiles and says, "That's just Bear Checking in on me again." [Verse 3 — the forearm] This long one down the arm? A desert somewhere The maps don't name and the news won't tell, Shrapnel came singing through a canvas door, He dragged two brothers from that burning hell. They gave him a medal in a velvet box, It's in a drawer he don't open no more — He'd trade every ribbon they ever stamped For one more night in the barracks with the corps. [Chorus] 'Cause every scar's got a name, Every scar's got a story, Some were cut in blood and flame, Some in love, some in glory. He don't talk much, don't need to say — The proof's carved in deep and it don't fade, Smooth skin's for men who never came to play... Every scar's got a name. [Verse 4 — the chest, stripped down and quiet] That round one on his chest, just left of the heart? A jealous man and a .38, Over a green-eyed woman in Baton Rouge Who was worth the bullet, worth the wait. She patched him up on her kitchen floor, Loved him hard for seven years, Then the cancer came where the bullet missed — And that's the one scar brings the tears. [Verse 5 — the back and the legs] The stripe across his back? A coward's blade In a prison yard he don't regret — He did his time for a brother's crime, 'Cause loyalty ain't paid in debt. And these legs, road-mapped in gravel and steel, From laying a Harley down at eighty-five, Sliding through fire on Highway 16 — Devil reached up, but he stayed alive. [Bridge — bare voice, barely above a whisper] Young buck at the bar says, "Old timer, Them scars ever make you cry?" Old man laughs low, finishes his whiskey, Says, "Son, scars are how you know you survived. Pretty skin never held a dying friend, Never took a blade for blood or creed — You go on and keep your smooth, clean hands... These scars are the only bible I need." [Final Chorus — full and swelling, all three voices] 'Cause every scar's got a name, Every scar's got a story, Amarillo, the desert, Baton Rouge — Blood and love and glory. And when they lay him down someday, No stone could ever say it plain — Just carve six words above his grave: "Every scar had a name." [Outro — guitar fading, one last line spoken, semi baritone] Yeah... every scar had name