Eighty thousand pounds of steel.
Suicide knob on my wheel.
Shifting this rig through ten gears. The yell of a Peterbilt in my ears.
Heavy-ass load haulin’ on my back. God damn, the fuckin’ smokies are hot on my tracks.
Cruisin’ back roads. Runnin’ overweight.
Sneakin’ round Johnny Law from state to state.
Lizards on the radio.
Eighteen wheels and diesel smoke.
Got a jake brake screamin’ through them hills, while manning eighty thousand pounds of hell on wheels.
Gear jammer pulled up to the chicken coop and seen't a pretty little blizzard at the choke’n’puke.
Gotta keep that shutter trouble under control.
Power up before them county mounties get hold.
Got a little rock’n’roll by my side, smokin’ up hard in my triple digit ride.
Lizards on the radio.
Eighteen wheels and diesel smoke.
supported by 15 fans who also own “Lizards on the Radio”
Utterly hypnotic, heavy, and ethereal beyond what I can aptly describe here. It'll take you careening down a kaleidoscopic wormhole of audial bliss. cynothoglys