DESCRIPTION:
Singer, mandolin picker, and acoustic guitarist Tim Hensley has been a sideman for many country music and bluegrass stars including Ricky Skaggs, Patty Loveless, and Kenny Chesney, who helps out on this debut album by co-producing with an ear toward the traditional side of country music.

Rodney Crowell's "Ridin' Out the Storm" is the tale of a homeless man shivering on the streets of New York in a cardboard box who still retains his pride and enough knowledge to know that his path is the result of his own poor choices.

Pleasant and enjoyable Bluegrass vocals with solid backing by some excellent musicians including Wyatt Rice, Tim Stafford, Adam Steffey, Rob Ickes, and Aubrey Haynie.

The list of those providing harmony vocals is also impressive, with Vince Gill, Ronnie Bowman, Patty Loveless and Sonya Isaacs among others.

Lyrics :

The New York City winter comes in cold grey sheets of steel
The numbness in his hands and feet is all that he can feel
Alcohol and sterno turns a doorway to a bed
And the ghost of who he might have been lives on inside his head

In a canyon made of brownstone on a sidewalk icy black
He wanders nearly barefoot with his righteousness in tact
A man of many mansions in a cardboard box replete
He lies sleeping with an angel while his heart pretends to beat

The wind blows down on Lonely Street like an ice pick through the air
Midst the Sunday times and coffee grinds and wino's in Times Square
Five flights up on Easy Street you know she's safe and warm
Way down low neath a foot of snow he's riding out the storm

I offered him my winter coat politely he refused
Like an educated man he spoke with words I seldom use
He said I don't need pity for these choices are my own
He bowed his head just slightly and quietly moved along

The wind blows down on Lonely Street like an ice pick through the air
Midst the Sunday times and coffee grinds and wino's in Times Square
Five flights up on Easy Street you know she's safe and warm
Way down low neath a foot of snow he's riding out the storm

Its not like he's a victim of the homeless life he stalks
Nor helpless to get back across the fine line that he walks
Riding out the storm means yesterday's already spent
Tomorrow don't mean nothing it won't even make a dent

The wind blows down on Lonely Street like an ice pick through the air
Midst the Sunday times and coffee grinds and wino's in Times Square
Five flights up on Easy Street you know she's safe and warm
Way down low neath a foot of snow he's riding out the storm