Good Red Loam

[Verse 1]
The clay on the wheel off Beale Street spun a muddy gray
on a Tuesday hot enough to make the asphalt pray.
He felt the slip and water make a slick and hopeless mess,
the seventh perfect failure born of nothing more or less.

[Chorus]
And then the walls held up
His hands knew the way home
This is not a prayer
This is the good red loam

[Verse 2]
He remembered Old Man Hemphill on a busted cinder block,
saying, "Son, this ain't no magic trick, this ain't some wind-up clock."
"The pressure and the patience, that's the only honest price,"
"you gotta learn to listen, you can't ask the same thing twice."

[Chorus]
And then the walls held up
His hands knew the way home
This is not a prayer
This is the good red loam

[Bridge]
Thirteen years of holding breath inside his chest,
just a quiet boy learning how to pass the test.

[Outro]
Imperfect. Fired. Permanent.
On the windowsill, catching the Memphis sun.