That open sign won't be on for long. I pulled up at closing time. This old town is shutting down for another night. Kill the light and lock the door, aint nothing open around here no more. Trucks still running might run all night. No city limit signs chasing headlights.
There's just something bout after work. Trees and creeks and dirt. Night air and the smell of that dust. Cold can in my hand, and the gravel on my truck just painting that rust. After a long, hard day when you finally get away from all that hurt, there's just something bout after work.
Gas hand won't be full for long. Wutcha gonna find as them old roads unwind while you whistle right along. Smoke rolls from the window blow through that pack. Wallen on the radio, I ain't coming back.
There's just something about after work. Trees and creeks and dirt. Night air and the smell of that dust. Cold can in my hand, and the gravel on my truck just painting that rust. After a long, hard day when you finally get away from all that hurt, there's just something bout after work.
I don't know how to say it. If there's a dirt road, I pray they don't pave it. When I clock out, I'm damn sure gonna take it.
Cause there's just something bout after work. Trees and creeks and dirt. Night air and the smell of that dust. Cold can in my hand, and the gravel on my truck just painting that rust. After a long, hard day when you finally get away from all that hurt, there's just something bout after work.