The Truckers Code

Midnight rings for 3 AM
dispatch is on the line
I'm told to mount the steed again
and make the highway mine
Massive wheels that take to flight
the goods that stores will show
A huge machine adorned in lights
pretripped and set to go

400 horses pulling strong
beneath the metal frame
Pounding, shaking, diesel smoked
of which I'm held to blame
I fight to stay awake sometimes
no one should ever know
Of what its like to risk your life
when loads just have to go

For every journey leaves its mark
on pavement graves I've seen
Where thin white crosses designate
a loved one's tragic scene
But the freedom of the open road
is more than most will know
and stands to serve this trucker's ode
of loads that have to go