* This song is called the Wide Load Blues*

* This song is called the Wide Load Blues* (Verse 1) Sun’s barely up, but the steel’s already shining, Coffee in my thermos, got a long day of drivin’. Forty tons of trouble sittin’ heavy on my back, Escort in the mirror, keepin' me on track. White lines whisper, “Don’t you drift too far,” One wrong move could leave a scar. (Pre-Chorus) Every mile I roll, it’s a tightrope ride, With a heartbeat pounding like the wheels that glide. (Chorus) I got the wide load blues on an 18-wheel road, Carryin’ more than metal—carryin’ one heavy load. Pressure in the cab, world on my shoulders, Feels like the asphalt’s only gettin’ colder. But I keep pushin’ on, doin’ what I gotta do— Yeah, I’ve learned to live with these wide load blues. (Verse 2) Backroads twistin' like a snake in the grass, Wind keeps fightin’, tryin’ to shove me off the path. Radio crackles with a warning from up ahead, Bridge is lookin’ narrow—hope the measurements were read. Sweat on my hands though the air’s runnin’ cold, Takes nerves of steel to move a load this bold. (Pre-Chorus) One slip, one sway, and it’s all undone, But I won’t back down till the job’s been won. (Chorus) I got the wide load blues on an 18-wheel road, Carryin’ more than metal—carryin’ one heavy load. Pressure in the cab, world on my shoulders, Feels like the asphalt’s only gettin’ colder. But I keep pushin’ on, doin’ what I gotta do— Yeah, I’ve learned to live with these wide load blues. (Bridge) Some folks think it’s just a ride, But they never felt a trailer slide. Never prayed a gust of wind would ease, Never fought a grade down on their knees. Takes a special kind of tough to steer this beast, From dawn’s first spark to the nighttime feast. (Chorus) I got the wide load blues on an 18-wheel road, Carryin’ more than metal—carryin’ one heavy load. Pressure in the cab, world on my shoulders, Feels like the asphalt’s only gettin’ colder. But I keep pushin’ on, doin’ what I gotta do— Yeah, I’ve learned to live with these wide load blues. (Outro) When the flags stop flyin’ and the tires cool down, I’ll rest these bones in some small town. Till the next big haul comes callin’ me through— And I saddle up again with the wide load blues.