One-Stop, Country roots ballad, Slow tempo, dark, moody, mysterious, haunting, sparse intro, Western, tense, tension, suspense, emotional, cinematic, Male vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, slide guitar, bass, organ, drums, strings, Atlanta, United States
We climbed the mountain searching for some gold But what if treasures nothing but a ghost To trade my soul to taste To hoard up stockpiles of sparkling waste So I left my home and slowly started west With a heavy heart and your name carved in my chest But you cant outrun your fate Or the bullet thats meant to twist into your brain But don't you want to break free Like the mute whos finally able to sing And for all the mystery... The grey king Is me So I fashioned crowns of clay upon my head And sang your hallelujahs from my bed But my journey through the past Was paved with clanging cymbals and broken glass And don't you want to break free Like the blind whos finally able to see For all the mystery... The grey king Is me