Highway Junkie - Chris Knight

A hundred cups of coffee, five hundred cigarettes

A thousand miles of highway and I ain’t forgot her yet

But I keep on movin', I keep movin on down the line

Ain’t nothin in my rear view just a cloud of dust and smoke

What do you expect when some old trucker’s heart gets broke

Yeah old truckers' hearts get broke

Those big wheels of rubber gonna rub her off-a my mind

I’m a highway junkie I need that old white line

Ten miles out Nashville doin bout 91

State boy pulled me over said where’s the fire son

He said where’s the fire son

I said there ain’t no fire I’m just runnin from a flame

Go on and write your ticket but I ain’t the one to blame

That county judge tried to rob me blind

Those big wheels of rubber gonna rub her off-a my mind

I’m a highway junkie I need that old white line

So I rolled on into Memphis, I got nothin left to lose

Wanted to hear some rock ‘n roll but all they played was blues

Didn’t want to hear no blues

So I tried to call up Elvis but Roger Miller grabbed the phone

He said «Drive them eighteen wheelers, boy, you’re the king of the road»

You’re the king of the road

Those big wheels of rubber gonna rub her off-a my mind

I’m a highway junkie I need that old white line