Log books for pennies

(Verse)

Keys in my hand dispatch on the line said son you gotta drive so I hit that highway with tears in my eyes and two babies back home

I missed the good years burning diesel for a dime trading first steps and first words for another state line

I broke my back with two hands on the wheel well my whole life disappeared

In the mirror

In the mirror

In the mirror

I lost the good years

Phone lit up at a truckstop Little voice, laughing through the phone “ daddy come home” but I was five days from anywhere and a tire had just blown

Christmas calls from a truckstop lot behind some cheap motel brokenhearted and sad I wrapped my heart in a folded maps said next run, I’ll break this spell

All the creases on my face are miles I can’t undo

With pictures in my visor of kids, I barely knew

Trying to provide a life worry free and New I hurt them more than I ever knew

If I could park this truck in an old diner lot on the outskirts of town shut the door and never look back and just burn it all to hell

I pray for one damn night that I dont let them down