The story
He wears the mud like proof and keeps walking.
He comes up from the field with boots caked and shirt stained, carrying the day’s work on him like a second skin. The town sees the dirt, the bent fence, the worn hands, but he keeps his eyes on what still stands and what still needs fixing. Honest doesn’t mean clean, and he knows it.
No lyric sheet is published for this track, so this reading is drawn from its title and the sound of the record.
Lyrics
The lyric sheet for this one isn't published yet — press play and listen along.