The Devil Rides Shotgun

I was seventeen with a busted-up truck,

A pocket full of nothing and a thirst for bad luck.

Didn’t need a map, didn’t need a plan,

Just a middle finger pointed at the whole damn land.

Radio screaming like it owed me a debt,

Cigarette burning through the holes in my regret.

I wasn’t scared of dying — hell, I welcomed the thought,

’Cause living felt like losing every battle I fought.

That’s when the devil rode shotgun,

Boots on my dash, laughing at what I’d become.

Said, “Boy, you ain’t broken — you’re just getting started,”

And I believed every lie from that voice cold‑hearted.

I wasn’t running from trouble — I was begging it to come,

Back when the devil…

Yeah, the devil rode shotgun.

Red lights meant nothing, stop signs even less,

I was fueled by anger, heartbreak, and a mess.

Every wrong turn felt like the right kind of sin,

Every night I swore I wouldn’t make it home again.

I’d stare at my reflection in the rearview glass,

See a stranger staring back with a haunted past.

He’d whisper, “Ain’t no saving you, son, don’t pretend,”

And I’d nod like he was the only damn friend I had left.

That’s when the devil rode shotgun,

Boots on my dash, laughing at what I’d become.

Said, “Boy, you ain’t broken — you’re just getting started,”

And I believed every lie from that voice cold‑hearted.

I wasn’t running from trouble — I was begging it to come,

Back when the devil…

Yeah, the devil rode shotgun.

But even devils get quiet

When the truth hits hard.

Even demons step back

When you’re staring at your scars.

One night I saw myself

In the glow of that moon…

And realized the devil only rides

With the man who makes him room.

That’s when the devil rode shotgun,

But I kicked him out before the rising sun.

Said, “You ain’t driving my life, not another mile,”

And he faded like smoke in the rearview’s smile.

I ain’t proud of the roads that I came from,

Back when the devil…

Yeah, the devil rode shotgun.

Now that seat stays empty…

And I ain’t the man I was then.