Songwriter: Brice, Lee
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Eighty-nine cents in the ashtray
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Half empty bottle of Gatorade
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Rollin' on the floorboard
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That dirty Braves cap on the dash
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Dogtags hangin' from the rear view
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Old Skoal can and cowboy boots
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And a "Go Army" shirt folded in the back
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This thing burns gas like crazy
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But that's all right
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People got their ways of copin'
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Oh, and I've got mine
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I drive your truck
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I roll every window down
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And I burn up
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Every road in this town
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I find a field, I tear it up
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Till all the pain is a cloud of dust
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Yes, sometimes, I drive your truck
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I leave that radio playin'
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The same ole country station
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Where you left it
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Yeah, man, I crank it up
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You'd probably punch my arm right now
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If you saw this tear rollin' down my face
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Hey, man, I'm tryin' to be tough
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And Mama asked me this mornin'
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If I'd been by your grave
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But that flag of stone
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Ain't where I feel you, anyway
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I drive you truck
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I roll every window down
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And I burn up
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Every back road in this town
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I find a field, I tear it up
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Till all the pain is a cloud of dust
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Yes, sometimes, I drive your truck
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I've cussed, I've prayed, I've said goodbye
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I've shook my fist and asked God why
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These days, when I'm missin' you this much
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I drive your truck
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I roll every window down
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And I burn up
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Every back road in this town
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I find a field, and I tear it up
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Till all the pain is a cloud of dust
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Yes, sometimes,
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Brother, sometimes, I drive your truck
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I drive your truck
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I hope you don't mind
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I hope you don't mind
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I drive your truck
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I Drive Your Truck
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| Lee Brice |
