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 I'd buy
a new face
Everyday I think
of money
Everyday I
think someway
Can buy
you love
Can give
you soul
Can pick
you up
Can down
you low
Can drag you
out of the hole
that 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