Whiskey and Prime Rib

[Verse 1]
I pack black cases by dawn
Tape on my hands, coffee gone
You count the miles in your head
I count the frames till I'm fed
Hotel soap, airport bread
Same old face in a blue-lit spread
[Pre-Chorus]
And she calls when the house goes still
Says, “Boy, come home if you will”
But the next load-in’s already booked
And the bus pulls out when she’s looking
[Chorus]
Whiskey and prime rib (whiskey and prime rib)
Keeps me moving on
Whiskey and prime rib (whiskey and prime rib)
Till the last song’s gone
My baby waits
My kids ask where
I say I’ll stay
Then I’m gone again
[Verse 2]
She saved my shirt with the tear
Ironed it flat with care
Little shoes by the door
Still I’m chasing one more
Her voice sits heavy in my ear
When I kiss them through the years
[Pre-Chorus]
She says, “Love, this house gets cold”
When the plates go dry and the nights run long
I swear I hear her in the cab
While the tires sing me back
[Chorus]
Whiskey and prime rib (whiskey and prime rib)
Keeps me moving on
Whiskey and prime rib (whiskey and prime rib)
Till the last song’s gone
My baby waits
My kids ask where
I say I’ll stay
Then I’m gone again
[Bridge]
There’s a crib in the corner now
Dust on the mantle somehow
I say I’ll quit by spring
But spring keeps changing everything
And every town claps loud for me
While my own front porch goes empty
[Chorus]
Whiskey and prime rib (whiskey and prime rib)
Keeps me moving on
Whiskey and prime rib (whiskey and prime rib)
Till the last song’s gone
My baby waits
My kids ask where
I say I’ll stay
Then I’m gone again
[Outro]
I’m on the road most my life
A touring video guy gets no rest
He runs on whiskey and prime rib
And love he leaves behind

Country-rock with driving mid-tempo groove, tight backbeat, and a restless guitar pulse; verse rides dry acoustic and low piano, pre-chorus opens with stacked toms and rising harmony, chorus hits with full drums, electric strums, and gang-vocal hooks. Lead vocal is close-mic and worn-in, with doubled lines on the hook and short delay throws on key words. Ear candy: radio chatter fade-ins, a snare pickup into each chorus, and a steel-guitar sigh between phrases. Bright, punchy, road-worn mix with a warm low end.