Tightrope

This is the sound of a soul teetering between the bottle and belief, between memory and mercy, between loving someone and not knowing how.

Tightrope is a late-night confessional from a man too drunk to write clearly, too honest not to. It wanders through Denver snow, Boston ghosts, the ache of missed connections, and the quiet dread of waking up alone again. He’s not asking to be saved—just noticed. Just turned toward, once.

This isn’t a clean song. It’s stained with truth.

It’s the kind of tune that knows the taste of regret, but still dreams of a streetcar rolling toward something gentle.

Because even the lost can still scan the horizon.

And even a whiskey poet hopes someone’s waiting at the next stop.