Old Tree Nuts
Verse 1There’s a crooked old tree on the edge of town
roots cracking through the clay and pride
And a man in a flannel, half falling apart
calls that twisted shade his bride
He’s got three nuts in a rusted jar
claims they hum when the moon burns white
Says they whisper of gods and weather and sin
and keep the stars polite
They say he’s cracked — maybe true — but the world’s no saner too
He laughs like thunder limping home
and swears those nuts once flew.
ChorusOld Tree Nuts and his three small guards
Holding court in the yard with the battle scars
He drinks to the roots, to the rain, to the truth
To the ghosts that dance where the daylight’s loose
He ain’t lost his fire, just shifted the hue, No
he wasn’t seeing red… just shades of blue.
Verse 2He talks to the bark like it’s gospel
swears the branches used to sing
Tells tales of lightning baptisms
says madness wears a ring, The town calls him crazy
but they still bring bread and beer
‘Cause even the preacher admits it’s smart to keep that kind of wisdom near
His eyes glow like kerosene when the sun falls low
And he swears his tree’s the only one that ever told him no.
ChorusOld Tree Nuts and his three small guards
Holding court in the yard with the battle scars
He drinks to the roots, to the rain, to the truth
To the ghosts that dance where the daylight’s loose
He ain’t lost his fire, just shifted the hue, No
he wasn’t seeing red… just shades of blue.
Verse 3Winter came cold and hard that year
turned the ground to glass and stone
They found him smiling under the tree
said “Guess he made it home, ”The jar was cracked
the nuts were gone, the roots dug deep and wide
And the wind through the limbs still murmurs low — “Old Nuts never died
”Now travelers stop with whiskey shots
pour three for luck and grief
They say his spirit guards that tree like bark guards belief.
BridgeSometimes at dusk, when the air gets weird
You can hear him laugh, raw and beard-stained, near
And the oak sways slow, like it still approves
Of a man too stubborn to ever move.
Final ChorusOld Tree Nuts and his three small guards
Still whispering low through the old back yards
He drinks to the roots, to the rain, to the truth
To the ghosts that dance where the daylight’s loose
He ain’t lost his fire, just shifted the hue, No
he wasn’t seeing red… just shades of blue.