The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder......
He lit his first smoke off a burning bridge.
Took his first punch with a grin and a twitch.
He’s got scars where names used to be.
And a throttle hand that don’t believe in peace.
He drinks like the past is still chasing him.
And rides like the future ain’t worth a sin.
He’s buried brothers in dust and flame.
and when he rides he calls their names.
He’s got blood on his boots and glass in his grin.
Every barroom brawl was a prayer to begin.
He don’t ask for mercy, don’t speak of regret.
He just pours another round and lights a cigarette.
The road is his gospel, the bike is his creed.
He’s chasing thunder — not hope, not need.
He rides with ghosts who never forgive.
And he swears that’s the only way to live.
No apologies, no second tries.
Just engines screaming under blackened skies.
If you ride with him, you ride and never tell
And you better be ready ...to ride through hell...
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a brother ...gonna toss you a line
He found a brother broken down , lost in the dark.
No patch, no pride — just gun shot marks.
And for the first time, he didn’t speak.
Just held the man and made him believe.
They’d fought, they’d bled, took off chasing thunder
to save a brother that got pulled  under.
He didn’t cry, didn’t rage, didn’t run.
He just whispered, “your not done.”......chasing ....thunder.......!
Brotherhood ain’t built on grace.
It’s forged in fire and a thousand mistakes.
It’s the silence when the world goes black.
And the promise that you’ve got his back.
It’s not forgiveness — it’s the ride.
And the thunder you chase side by side.
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on  each dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a bother... gonna  toss you a line...
The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder.
chasing thunder......
chasing thunder.......chasing .....thunder.....

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Chasing Thunder Rusty Marshall Band

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A heartfelt thank you to all of you lovely people who listen, share my music and promote it. Without YOU, this “adventure” would never be possible. YOU are the best listeners imaginable. 🫶🔥🎶❤️


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My Musical Journey – Thomas GT

I was born in the 1960s and grew up with music flowing through my veins. From an early age, rock was more than just sound—it was a way of life. At 12 years old, I picked up my first guitar, inspired by the roaring energy of the rock scene—bands like KISS, Judas Priest, Saxon, and Iron Maiden lit the fire in my soul.

Through the years that followed, I played in several bands, living for the thrill of the stage and the camaraderie of creating music together. Those were unforgettable days—loud, passionate, and full of life.

At 28, my life took a new turn when I became a father. My focus shifted entirely to raising my children and caring for my dear family, and music quietly moved to the background. The guitars gathered dust, but the melodies never truly left my heart.

Now, at 60, that spark has reignited. The passion is back—but the hands don’t quite move like they used to. Thankfully, modern text-based music technology (AI) has opened a whole new door. Through it, I can craft music with words, bringing my feelings, my lyric and my ideas to life in ways I never thought possible.

Today, my inspirations have evolved—artists like Peter Cetera, Dayseeker, and Wind Walkers now shape the sound and emotion of my work. For me, this is more than just making music again—it’s finding my voice after all these years, and finally sharing the emotions I once kept inside.

All of my songs are created as demos—sketches of ideas meant to capture and express the emotions I carry, and have carried, throughout my life. They are my way of painting feelings in sound, of telling stories that my words alone cannot hold.

My greatest wish is for real musicians to one day perform and interpret these songs, breathing their own life and artistry into my stories. To hear my lyric/music brought to life in that way would be the proudest moment of my life.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking the time to read my story.

In the shadows of Apache Junction, at the foot of the majestic Superstition Mountains, sits a weathered hacienda. This desert oasis is home to an enigmatic figure, a songwriter whose journey reads like a long, dusty road of honky-tonk bars and college cafeterias. He wasn't chasing fame or glitter; instead, he chose the soul-crushing beauty of music for music's sake.

Years spent hunched over sticky barroom tables and scribbling lyrics on napkins earned him a reputation—not in the spotlight but in the back rooms where deals are made. He wrote melodies that found their way into the hearts of stars who had lost their own muse. He sold his creations for cash, with no recognition, but the whisper of his songs carried the weight of his soul.

Finally, he bought this piece of desert paradise—a stable income from his timeless songs allowed him to live comfortably, if anonymously. Here in this hacienda, with his family beside him and the mountains as his backdrop, he found the peace to write hits under his own name. He chuckled at the irony that now, without chasing fame, he could create music that brought him joy.

In the end, it was never about the spotlight. It was about the journey, the stories, and the songs that wrote themselves through his life. As the sun set behind the Superstitions, casting long shadows over the hacienda, he strummed his guitar and sang—content, unknown, and unburdened by the world's gaze.


Copyright 2019 Edwin H. Balder

I may be dead when fame comes but my real glory was always JULIE & The Kids. Thank you for such love

Chasing Thunder Rusty Marshall Band

Edwin Balder