Lyrics

Verse 1**
*Another midnight mile, my rig groans like my soul,*
*Truck stop burritos took their toll—oh God, the toll.*
*The CB’s cracklin’ with a voice from the void,*
*“Driver, what’s that smell?” …it’s my diet, Floyd.*
*I’m haunted by lettuce (I should’ve said no),*
*And a love seat air freshener that died three states ago.*
*The gas pedal’s heavy, but my guts are heavier,*
*This ain’t a smokestack, buddy—it’s a biohazard.*

**Chorus**
*I’m just a man, a can of beans, and a curse,*
*Chasin’ deadlines with a cab that’s rehearsin’ rehearse.*
*My heart’s a torn map, my pride’s on E,*
*And every fart’s a cry for help no one hears but me.*
*Oh, these lonely roads and these lethal fries,*
*Turned my semi into a weapon of mass demise.*
*I’m the king of the highway, the duke of despair—*
*And the reason rest stops need hazmat air.*

**Verse 2**
*I miss my ex-wife (she left ’cause of the “stench”),*
*Now my only true love’s a mechanic named French.*
*He says, “Your clutch is shot,” but I swear it’s the chili,*
*That’s meltin’ gears and scarin’ wildlife willy-nilly.*
*I’ve blamed it on the dog (I don’t own a dog),*
*On haunted cargo, on climate change fog.*
*But the truth’s in the vents, in the seat’s desperate squeak—*
*I’m a biofueled tragedy, leakin’ all week.*

**Chorus**
*I’m just a man, a can of beans, and a curse,*
*Chasin’ deadlines with a cab that’s rehearsin’ rehearse.*
*My heart’s a torn map, my pride’s on E,*
*And every fart’s a cry for help no one hears but me.*
*Oh, these lonely roads and these lethal fries,*
*Turned my semi into a weapon of mass demise.*
*I’m the king of the highway, the duke of despair—*
*And the reason rest stops need hazmat air.*

**Bridge**
*Pulled over in Wyoming, cop said, “Son, breathe here,”*
*Breathalyzed my *cab*—now he’s in ICU care.*
*The CDC’s trackin’ me through Nebraska,*
*I’m a walking war crime in Wrangler jeans and a hat.*
*My legacy’s methane, my epitaph’s a joke,*
*“He loved the open road… till the road started to choke.”*

**Outro**
*So if you see my rig lit like a Christmas tree,*
*Know it’s not brake lights—it’s a cry for mercy.*
*I’ll die as I lived: lost, gassy, alone,*
*With a heart full of love… and a cab full of groan.*