Belle Vamp - Crossroad Whisper (The Myth of Robert Johnson)

Crossroad Whisper

Down that dusty road where the shadows play,
A young man wandered at the end of day.
Six strings on his back, dreams in his eyes,
But every note fell, no matter how he tried.

They laughed and they jeered, said he’d never be,
A master of the blues, no legacy.
But hunger drove him, pride burned inside,
So he walked that road, nowhere left to hide.

At the crossroad where the silence speaks,
He met a man with eyes so bleak.
A whisper echoed in the midnight air,
“Trade your soul, if you dare.”

He laid his guitar on the dusty ground,
The stranger tuned it, without a sound.
Fingers danced, strings did cry,
A mournful wail beneath the moonlit sky.

Oh, he played like the devil showed him how,
Notes so sweet, they’d break a vow.
No more mocking, no more shame,
The world would remember his name.

At the crossroad where the silence speaks,
He met a man with eyes so bleak.
A whisper echoed in the midnight air,
“Trade your soul, if you dare.”

They say he left, never looked behind,
But shadows followed, cold and unkind.
For every chord that sang so true,
There was a debt coming due.

He wandered far, town to town,
The greatest bluesman ever found.
But in his eyes, a haunted flame,
He knew who’d come to stake their claim.

At the crossroad where the silence speaks,
He met a man with eyes so bleak.
A whisper echoed in the midnight air,
“Trade your soul, if you dare.”

No grave to mark where his body lies,
Just whispers carried by southern skies.
Legends grow as shadows fade,
Of the man who at midnight… a devil’s bargain made.