Black Dog On I-10

[Verse 1]
Yellow line peeling under bald tires
Coffee gone cold, breath tastes like smoke
Got a cracked-frame Bible on the dash, face down
And a warrant in a state I never spoke
Weigh station glow in the rearview mirror
Like a courthouse hanging in the sky
Got a logbook scribbled in a shaky hand
And a fresh oil stain where I learned to lie
[Chorus]
Black dog on I-10, keeping pace with my wheel
Eyes like burning coals, knows every secret I conceal
He runs in the rain, he runs in the steel
Black dog on I-10 (oh)
Tell me which one’s gonna get me first
The past, the D.O.T., or the beast on the shoulder I feel
[Verse 2]
CB hissing out dead men’s laughter
Channel 19 sounds like a wake
Heard a friend call in at mile marker thirteen
Now his rig’s rusting by a brackish lake
Saw that dog first night out of Shreveport
Wet fur dripping in the sodium glow
Tag said “Inspection” ‘round his ragged neck
He grinned like he already knows
[Chorus]
Black dog on I-10, keeping pace with my wheel
Eyes like burning coals, knows every secret I conceal
He runs in the rain, he runs in the steel
Black dog on I-10 (yeah)
Tell me which one’s gonna get me first
The past, the D.O.T., or the beast on the shoulder I feel
[Bridge]
Pulled over where the cypress leans low
Killed the lights, let the engine hum low (mmm)
Heartbeat drumming like a jackknife load
Footsteps crunching in the sugarcane rows
License plate hanging like a death row tag
Tire tracks fading in the swampy sand
Heard him breathing at the trailer doors
Hot breath crawling up my hands (oh Lord)
[Chorus]
Black dog on I-10, keeping pace with my wheel
Eyes like burning coals, knows every secret I conceal
He runs in the rain, he runs in the steel
Black dog on I-10
If I make New Orleans by the break of day
Will that mutt, that badge, or my own bad memory
Be the one that drags me away

country, Swampy dark country with Cajun fiddle drones, tremolo baritone guitar, and a huge, subby bass under a slow half-time stomp. Male vocals sit low and gritty with occasional gravelly growls; chorus widens with ghostly gang shouts and reverb-soaked harmonies. Kick and floor tom feel like distant thunder, with brushed snare rattling like chains. Fiddle and lap steel answer vocal lines, building tension toward a bridge that drops to almost a whisper, then slams back into a final, menacing chorus., cajun, deep