Dallas, November ’63…
They said I was just the driver.
But sometimes the wheel turns… and the trigger does too.
From the front seat… this is how it went down.
Behind the wheel of that Lincoln, black as the night,
Route through Dealey, sun in my eyes, stage set right.
Jackie in pink, Connally talkin’ politics smooth,
But the order came quiet through the earpiece— “Make the move.”
I glanced in the mirror, saw the grassy knoll empty,
Heart poundin’ like a war drum, secrets they fed me.
One hand on the wheel, other slipped to the piece,
.45 special, modified for peace— or at least that’s the lie they sold me.
Crowd cheerin’ loud, confetti in the air,
I hit the brake soft, slowed us down right there.
Turned my body slow, like I was checkin’ the rear,
But the barrel spoke first— pop— history in my mirror.
Blood on the roses, brain on the trunk,
They screamed “magic bullet,” but I knew what I’d done.
Oath to protect? Nah, oath to the crown,
New World Order put the hit on the man holdin’ it down
I killed JFK, from the driver’s seat,
Wheel in one hand, death in the other— neat.
They blamed Oswald, Ruby, the mob, CIA,
But it was me, Greer, turnin’ that day.
From the front seat, I changed everything,
One shot for the kings who pull on the strings.
Driver’s perspective, no escape from the scene,
I killed Kennedy… and the American dream.
Flashbulb poppin’, Zapruder’s camera rollin’ tape,
My head twist weird— they called it “sudden brake.”
Secret Service trained, but loyalty bought higher,
They promised my family safety, retirement on fire.
LBJ in the shadows, winkin’ from the side,
“Finish the job, Bill, let the country divide.”
I smelled the gunpowder, heard Jackie’s cry,
“God, they killed Jack!”— yeah, and I was nearby.
Aftermath quiet, they scrubbed the car clean,
Told me keep drivin’, act like a dream.
But every night the ghosts ride shotgun with me,
Texas wind whisperin’, “You sold eternity.”
Umbrella man signal, radio crackle code,
I was just a pawn on that grassy knoll road.
Now they call it theory, but I know the truth,
Driver’s seat killer— bullet from the front booth.
I killed JFK, from the driver’s seat,
Wheel in one hand, death in the other— neat.
They blamed Oswald, Ruby, the mob, CIA,
But it was me, Greer, turnin’ that day.
From the front seat, I changed everything,
One shot for the kings who pull on the strings.
Driver’s perspective, no escape from the scene,
I killed Kennedy… and the American dream.
[Bridge – Half-sung, slower, eerie]
If the history books could talk…
They’d burn every page that says “lone gunman.”
I still feel the recoil in my right arm,
Forty years later, carryin’ the harm…
Now I’m old in my grave, but the secret won’t die,
Every documentary, they still askin’ why.
Was it the Fed, the Mafia, or the Illuminati eye?
Doesn’t matter— my finger pulled it, that’s no lie. So light one up, pour somethin’ strong for the driver,
The man who turned history into a cipher.
