They Weren’t There. But They Want It All.

They Weren’t There. But They Want It All.

By John Stone

The song is called “They Weren’t There (But They Want It All).” Roy Dawson sings it. His band plays it like they’ve lived it. Maybe they have.

It starts with a slide guitar. Slow. Mean. The kind of sound that doesn’t ask for your attention — it takes it. Then comes the voice. Tired but not broken. Sharp. Honest. Like a man who’s been talked about more than he’s been helped.

He’s not singing for fun. He’s telling you what happened.

They weren’t there. That’s the truth.
Not in the cold nights. Not in the fights that left bruises no one saw.
But now they want the reward. The credit. The crown.
They smile while their hands are empty. But they want yours full.

That’s what the song is about. And it burns.

The music hits hard. There’s no pretense in it. The drums don’t dance. They march. The guitar doesn’t shine. It growls. Then cries. Then bites.

There’s a line in the chorus:

“They’ll steal your fire just to watch it burn.”

You feel it when he says it. You remember people who’ve done it to you. Or maybe you’ve done it to someone. Either way, it stays with you.

This song doesn’t sell a dream. It spits a truth. It’s not for people who want easy things. It’s for the ones who kept going anyway. When it was cold. more info When it was quiet. When no one clapped.

And it sounds like Southern rock is supposed to sound:
Dirty. Raw. Proud. Alive.

This isn’t background music. This is the kind of song that makes you stop what you're doing. It puts the weight on your chest and dares you to carry it. If you can’t — it moves on without you.

Listen to it. If you’ve bled, you’ll understand.
If you haven’t, keep pretending.

—
Roy Dawson & THE ROYELVISBAND
“They Weren’t There (But They Want It All)”
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