I drive a truck
it carries money
And everyday
I dream up my
fantasies
Yesterday
I bought my
beach house
A little place just
off the coast of
France
Everyday
I think of money
Everyday
I think of running
I love my truck
I love my family
Stacked in the back
the good life
surrounds me
Could tie my right
hand man
And put him
some place
Then I'd ditch
the truck
And buy a new face
Everyday
I think of money
Everyday
I think of someway
It can't buy you
love
It can't give you
a soul
Can pick you up
Can down you low
Can drag you out
of the hole
You dug
Yourself
Out of
again
Sat in a truck
it carries convicts
My hands are bound
to the seat
by handcuffs
Tomorrow
I'll maybe
walk around the yard
Or paint in my cell
and hate imprisonment
Everyday
I think of money
Everyday
I miss my family