Blues From Buckle

I’ve heard tales from long ago
About the place I live
It don’t seem like the place I know
And it don’t seem to sweet

Who knows about the way things go?
They say it’s changed but I don’t know…
This place called Buckle seems so long ago
Seems so long ago

I’ve played games with different names
And names don’t change the flow
But I guess that’s just not how
this place used to go

Who knows about the way things go?
They say it’s changed but I don’t know…
This place called Buckle seems so long ago
Seems so long ago

Maybe we can wakeup
Or maybe if we breakup
Maybe if we shake up
Maybe if we stop?
Just stop.

I’ve played games with different names
And names don’t change the flow
But I guess that’s just not how
this place used to go

Who knows about the way things go?
They say it’s changed but I don’t know…
This place called Buckle seems so long ago

Who knows about the way things go?
They say it’s changed but I don’t know…
This place called Buckle seems so long ago
Seems so long ago

Hearing stories about his hometown’s not-so-distant past, Desmond was moved to write Blues from Buckle.

It was hard to him to grasp that in decades prior, the town had been a cauldron of hate and intolerance.

What better way to address these tortured feelings about his place of birth than to pen a song about it.