Stuck in Midland Blues

Got about half a tank of gas left and I’m pushin’ 59, I wanna get outta Texas, but I aint got a dollar to my name, haven’t made it rich or famous, and you may think I’m insane but I’m gonna keep on playing my guitar, writing and singin’ my songs until the day I pass from this world.

I never made my livin’ in the music, but I earned my retirement by the sweat pouring down my face and the skills I picked up, and now I’m broke as last year's joke, I’m stuck in Midland, I wanna get outta Texas, but I aint got a dollar to my name, haven’t made it rich or famous, and you may think I’m insane but I’m gonna keep on playing my guitar, writing and singin’ my songs until the day I pass from this world.

I’m stuck in Midland and I’m feelin’ the blues.

Don’t know if I’ll ever see Kentucky again, doesn’t look like I’m ever getting outta Texas alive, I can’t change this bad habit I have, every day it’s one more song written, one more day believing I’ll strike gold in a used-up mine, I know I aint got the cards and the dice never roll in my favor, but every day I play the odds.

Sometimes I stare out at the empty West Texas sky and wonder if there’s more for a worn-out soul like me. The dust settles on my boots each night, but the dream never does—just keeps drifting on like the highway stretching out before me.

Maybe one day the wind will shift and carry me someplace new, or maybe I’ll always be chasing that horizon from the heart of Midland. But as long as there’s a song left in me and the road calls my name, I’ll keep moving on, hopeful for tomorrow and grateful for the music that keeps me going. Until then, I’ll let the blues play on beneath these wide, unending Texas skies.