| He’s got a sunburn on his left arm |
| From hangin' out a Peterbilt window |
| Got a wife and three kids on the farm |
| Drivin' just as fast as he can go, yeah |
| Minneapolis in his rear view |
| He’s a dead headin' to Tulsa |
| Got the hammer down on 82 |
| With every mile marker getting' closer, I said |
| Hey, he’s a trucker man |
| Tryin' to get home just as fast as he can |
| Those redeye runs are taking their toll |
| His eighteen wheeler is a rollin' back home |
| Starin' a hole through the windshield |
| He’s got nineteen on the CB wheel |
| They call him the Bandit |
| 'Cause he only brakes for the Smokies, I said |
| Hey, he’s a trucker man |
| Tryin' to get home just as fast as he can |
| Those redeye runs are taking their toll |
| His eighteen wheeler is a rollin' back home |
| He’s got a Smith and Wesson in the glove box |
| And Mother Mary on the dashboard |
| He’s a red blooded, blue collar man |
| American right to the core |
| Hey, he’s a trucker man |
| Tryin' to get home just as fast as he can |
| Those redeye runs are taking their toll |
| His eighteen wheeler is a rollin' back home |
| Say it, hey, he’s a trucker man |
| Tryin' to get home just as fast as he can |
| Those redeye runs are taking their toll |
| His eighteen wheeler is a rollin' back home |
| Well, he’s rollin' back home |