Shotgun in A Chevy

Got a '68 Chevy that his cousin bought in '71

Traded 98 dollars and his daddy's lucky shotgun
Christened the back bumper with a half-empty bottle of beer

In the back of his mind, he could hear all the people cheer

He used to sleep in school, hopin' no one would call his name
As the teacher tried to turn 'em out all the same
Get up every mornin', do the work you're expected to

And at night, sit and count the crumbs thrown to you
He inherited a job at the local distillery
Where he had all day to sit and think of what would never be

Somewhere along the line, he'd been deceived

Get stoned, read the Bible and pretend he still believed

Rollin' down the road with his foot to the floor
Passin' the same farms and fields as every time before
Nothin' haunts a man like knowin' that he's free to choose
So he lets up off the gas when he thinks of all he's got to lose
Well, you work all day, live just like a slave
Hustlin' for a seat on the slow shuttle to the grave
There's a bottom to every bottle and the only thing that ever lasts
Is riding shotgun in a Chevy and countin' all the cars you pass

Yeah