Eighteen Wheels to Amarillo

Diesel in my coffee, mile marker ninety-two Dispatcher on the radio says the load is overdue Headlights through the rain like a thousand tiny knives Half this country's sleeping, and the other half just drives Roll, roll, eighteen wheels to Amarillo Chasing yellow lines I'll never catch Roll, roll, the white stripes bend and follow Home's a postcard in the dashboard scratch Truck stop waitress knows my order by my face Eggs and hash browns, same old vinyl place She asks me where I'm headed and I tell her "further on" Leave a twenty on the counter, and by sunrise I'm gone Roll, roll, eighteen wheels to Amarillo Chasing yellow lines I'll never catch Roll, roll, the white stripes bend and follow Home's a postcard in the dashboard scratch