Roy Dawson isn’t just another singer-songwriter—he’s cut from the cloth of rock legends. The kind of cloth that smells like bar smoke, sweat, and American grit. The kind of cloth soaked in heartache, highway miles, and hand-written lyrics on paper napkins—torn and stuffed in back pockets after a long set at a dive bar somewhere between nowh

There are no accidents, only the things we don’t yet understand. A man sits alone at the end of the day, the light falling out of the sky like old soldiers dropping from a war they can’t win. The coffee’s gone cold. The heart too, maybe. And then the screen flickers. A video, a voice. A sentence simple and strong: “God placed this on your s