Mud grips white-tip. Cigar stickin' out of my face. Earnhardt racing sticker on the window. Banged up fender. 4x4, straight pipe roar. Primer and rust all over the door.
I wouldn't own a suit, much less a tie. Sunday would still be a part of Friday night. And Jesus wouldn't be a friend of mine. If I could say no to a woman.
Take a trip from here. . Bogalusa, Baton Rouge. New Orleans, Picayune. Boloxi, Pascagoula. Mobile Bay,Big full moon. Diesel up just north of Destin. Headed cross to Jacksonville.
It might be a tank of gas away. Or just a little place across town. Somewhere we're supposed to be. Somewhere that we don't know about. Yeah, we talk and talk too much about someday.
(Tony Martin / Mark Nesler). . As the sun's coming up. She puts coffee on. Love in a cup. She makes it strong. She kisses my cheek. And I'm on my way.
If I were down to my last dollar. Sittin' on an empty tank. I'd be a dollar richer than I was back in the day. When I was playin' for tips and compliments.
(Skip Ewing/Jimmy Wayne Barber). . He sat up on the bed and he watched me packing. He already knew why I was leavin'. I took what I needed but I sure left a lot still hanging.
I am a poor wayfaring stranger. Traveling through this world of woe. Yet there's no sickness, no toil or danger. In that bright world to which I go. .
We've got a Styrofoam cooler in the back of my old Chevy truck. And we're reaching over the side for brew 'cause the tailgates stuck. A couple of lines in the water, hey, I think you've got a bite.
Well it ain't home. But it'll have to do for a while. Got a fold down bed. Two windows on the parking lot. Three plates in the kitchenette. A table and chair where I can eat.
Have you ever had one of those days. You wake up feeling good,. So good that you could take the whole world.. One of those day's when you just know. No matter what nothing in the world could go wrong..
O come, O come, Emmanuel. And ransom captive Israel. That mourns in lonely exile here. Until the Son of God appear. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel. Shall come to thee, O Israel.
It's the hour of ghosts I'm the soul survivor. You keep pushing me. To pull another all-nighter. Watching on these walls. Memory silhouettes. All the tender times.
Mama put a bible in my glove box. And a hot homemade apple pie on the passenger's seat. She said â??You'll always be my babyâ??. Then she planted a kiss and a couple of tears on my cheek.
I been thinkin' 'bout our love situation. All this attraction in the present tense. I've reached the only logical conclusion. Love ain't supposed to make sense.
She used to sit in the passenger seat. Tappin' on the dash with her bare feet. Poppin' that gum and paintin' her toenails blue. She'd turn on the radio and crank it up.
Eighteen wheeler dropped me off at that city limits sign. Sunday morning sunlight hurt my eyes. It's a long way from where I been back to my home town.
Everybody has their own idea of heaven. What kind of paradise they'll see.. Pearly gates, streets of gold. No gettin' sick or growing old.. Sounds like a beautiful place to be..
An hour into my shift. I'm covered from head to toe. Drilling oil from the bottom. Of the Gulf of Mexico. Sun's on the rise. Sweat rolling black down my face.
If anybody had told me that anybody'd have a hold on me. I'd say they were out of their mind. But speakin' of crazy, I'm findin' lately. All I want, all I need, all the time is.