Days Are Numbered

The road hums beneath the wheels, and the six-string in my hands becomes the only constant - both a friend and a curse. Here, every sunrise is like a sunset, because time has merged into one long tour of “now or never.” The song is about the smell of whiskey for courage, phone calls that end in tears on the line, and asphalt that “kicks you in the ass” but still beckons you onward.

It sounds like the confession of a nomad of the stage: fatigue cannot be hidden, but the drive is stronger. Yes, the days are numbered, the nights are long, but the name is famous, and a thousand people are waiting for the amplifier to be turned up to ten again.