He tuned his soul to the sound of chrome.
Raised on riffs and the rumble of home.
Leather and scars were the only truth.
He found his church in a barroom booth.
The road was long but the rhythm stayed.
Every mile was a debt he paid.
They don’t ask why — they just roll.
Gasoline hearts and rock and roll.
If you’ve got a brother at your side…
You don’t need a map for the ride.
Rock and ride — through the fire and the rain.
Through the breakdown, the bruises, the pain.
Rock and ride — with your boots on the line.
Every chord, every curve, every sign.
Rock and ride — when the world says no.
You throttle up and let it go.
Rock and ride — till the last goodbye.
And you’ll know who’s real when the engines die.
He’s seen the edge and he’s kissed the fall.
Watched good men fade behind the wall.
But when the music hits and the tires scream…
He remembers every outlaw dream.
They don’t cry — they burn and bend.
But they’ll bleed for a brother to the bitter end.
They don’t ask why — they just roll.
Gasoline hearts and rock and roll.
If you’ve got a brother at your side…
You don’t need a map for the ride.
Rock and ride — through the fire and the rain.
Through the breakdown, the bruises, the pain.
Rock and ride — with your boots on the line.
Every chord, every curve, every sign.
Rock and ride — when the world says no.
You throttle up and let it go.
Rock and ride — till the last goodbye.
And you’ll know who’s real when the engines die.
He’s older now but the fire’s still lit.
The road still calls and he won’t quit.
He sees his brother fighting for breath.
And it hits harder than love or death.
So he rides slower, but he rides true.
Because that’s what real brothers do.
Being a brother ain’t just blood and name.
It’s showing up when life’s a flame.
It’s the silence shared when words won’t land.
It’s the grip of a calloused hand.
It’s knowing you’d trade your pride and ride…
Just to keep your brother alive.
Rock and ride — through the fire and the rain.
Through the breakdown, the bruises, the pain.
Rock and ride — with your boots on the line.
Every chord, every curve, every sign.
Rock and ride — when the world says no.
You throttle up and let it go.
Rock and ride — till the last goodbye.
And you’ll know who’s real ....when the engines die.
Rock and ride....Rock and ride...Rock and ride

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


Ride and Rock Rusty Marshall Band

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

Ride and Rock Rusty Marshall Band

Edwin Balder