Chris Knight
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Highway Junkie

Chris Knight


One hundred cups of coffee five hundred cigarettes
A thousand miles of highway and I ain’t forgot her yet
But I keep on movin keep movin on down the line

Ain’t nothin in my mirror 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 of 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 man 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 of my mind
I’m a highway junkie I need that old white line

So I rolled on down Memphis I got nothin left to lose
Wanted to hear some rock ‘n roll but they played was blues
Didn’t want to hear no blues

So I went to call up Elvis but Roger Miller grabbed the phone
He said dang we 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 of your mind
I’m a highway junkie I need that old white line

Compositores: Sam M Tate, Kathleen Ann Wright (Tate Annie), Christopher David Knight (Knight Chris)
ECAD: Obra #261966

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