Grace at Twilight

Pulled the truck to the gravel shoulder

Twilight bleeding through the pines

Preacher on the AM dial

Speaking words that feel like mine

Oh,

let the light bend low

Over this dusty highway (oooh)

Lead this traveler home

In the quiet of the evening storm

Radio crackles with a quiet plea

I hold my breath against the wheel

Is there grace left for a man like me

Or just the shadow

of what I feel

Oh,

let the light bend low

Over this dusty highway (oooh)

Lead this traveler home In the quiet of the evening storm

(hear

my

plea)