IF you rush ...you get burned
The Pie Was Always Gonna Cool by Songwriter Edwin H. Balder
Pie..(oh my)... pie....
mama rose at half past four
barefoot feet on a creaky floor
rolled the dough by window light
said “some truths bake better overnight”
apple peels in a copper pot
cinnamon twist from a jar she got
from aunt lou’s shelf in sixty-two—
said “every bite’s got history, too”
she said, “don’t rush the heat, don’t fight the flame
love takes time, and time takes aim
if you want it sweet, you gotta wait on cool—
the pie was always gonna cool.”
papa came in with boots still wet
said “how long ‘til it’s ready yet?”
she just smiled, wiped flour clean
said “don’t poke at peace like it's something mean”
the fire popped, the coffee brewed
the old dog snored by the chimney flue
kids ran wild, then sat real still
watchin' mama bake what words can’t fill
don’t rush the heat, don’t fight the flame
love takes time, and time takes aim
if you want it sweet, you gotta wait on cool—
the pie was always gonna cool.
neighbor boy with a fast red car
thought he’d earn her heart with a Mason jar
but she knew better than sugar quick—
“fast love crumbles, slow love sticks”
she took a slice, gave him a grin
said “tell me, boy, what’s baked within?”
he shrugged and said, “i’m not quite sure”—
she laughed, “then you best come back for more”
now the years roll by like dust on fence
with lessons steeped in common sense
you can chase the gold or chase the shine
but the good stuff rests in its own time
you can turn the oven high with pride
or let it settle, slow and wide
but what feeds a soul, ain’t ever fast—
it’s the waiting heart that holds the last
so don’t serve hurt before it's healed
don’t cut truth til it's revealed
the finest grace ain’t found in haste—
it’s in the crumbs you chose to taste
don’t rush the heat, don’t fight the flame
love takes time, and time takes aim
if you want it sweet, you gotta wait on cool—
the pie was always gonna cool
the pie was always gonna cool…
let it breathe, let it bless, let it rule…
the pie… was always gonna cool…
 gonna cool…
 let it rule…
 always gonna cool…
 always gonna cool…
 always gonna cool…

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The Pie Was Always Gonna Cool by Songwriter Edwin H. Balder

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

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