Hollow Cross Highway

The road’s my altar, cracked and wide, The sky my only place to hide. I’ve nailed my past to milepost signs, And left my faith in broken lines.

No choir sings, no angels call, Just the wind that knows it all. It hums my sins through wires and rain, Like ghosts that learned my name.

On the Hollow Cross Highway, I drive my soul alone. Where mercy burned and grace turned stone, That’s where I found my own. On the Hollow Cross Highway, The white lines carve my name. Every sin’s a mile behind, And every mile’s the same.

I saw salvation on the run, A shadow swallowed by the sun. The preacher waved from billboard signs, Said, “Turn around — you’ve crossed the line.”

But I just smiled, rolled the dice, ‘Cause heaven never paid its price. If hell’s the toll for how I’ve lived, Then that’s the road I’ll give.

Ashes blow where angels fell, The desert keeps its share of hell. I don’t pray, I just drive slow, Till the storm decides I go.

On the Hollow Cross Highway, The road don’t bend or lie. Every turn’s a question mark, And answers always die. On the Hollow Cross Highway, My headlights face the divine. If God still cares to listen — He knows this soul is mine.

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