Текст Chris Knight – Highway Junkie

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

Ain’t nothin’ in my rear view just a cloud of dust and smoke

Those big wheels of rubber gonna rub her off-a 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 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-a my mind
I’m a highway junkie I need that old white line

So I rolled on into Memphis, I got nothin’ left to lose
Wanted to hear some rock ‘n’ roll but all they played was blues
Didn’t want to hear no blues
So I tried to call up Elvis but Roger Miller grabbed the phone
He said «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-a my mind
I’m a highway junkie I need that old white line