This story is based off of when Tommy was killed in prison by dream. I'm extremely late I know that but I started listening to this song and it reminded me of their friendship. So this is revolving ClingyDuo.
Lyrics will be in italic.
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That red truck stood silently in the back of it's passed owners home. The once beautifully painted red color was now a washed down orange as for sitting in the sun for too long. A crack ran up the middle of the windsheild, decorated with mud and squashed bugs.
A young brunette walked up to the drivers side, keys hanging sadly from his hand. The door squeaked as it swung open. Rust fell as the door swung back and fourth from opening all the way.
The brunette stepped in swinging his lower body in before the rest of his body. The truck bounced as he got in shutting the door closed. He fiddled with the keys as he looked around.
Eighty-nine cents in the ashtray.
Half empty bottle of Gatorade rolling in the floorboard.
That dirty Braves cap on the dash.
Dog tags hanging from the rear view.
Old Skoal cans and cowboys boots.
And a "go Tommy" shirt, folded in the back.
Before tears fell, the young boy twisted the keys in the egnition. Noticing the puff of black smoke emerge from the exhaust.
This thing burns gas like crazy, but that's alright.
People got their ways of coping.
Oh and I've got mine..
The brunette put it in gear and pressed on the gas petal. Dust clouded his vision as he drove through the paths and turns in an open field. Loving the way the wheel turned swiftly in his hand. The whistling of the turbo blurring his hearing. And just the feeling of his passed buddy sitting next to him.
I drive your truck.
I roll every window down and I burn up.
Every back road in this town.
I find a field, I tear it up.
Till all the pains a cloud if dust.
Yeah sometimes, I drive your truck.
The trucked slowed to a stop, now sitting like it was in its owners yard but now in a field with dead crops, possible snakes and was painted with mud and dirt.
The boy switched on the radio, surprised it still worked after all these years just sitting there. A 90s country station began playing. The brunette didn't expect to start crying right away but the thought of both him and his brother blaring music, windows rolled down and passing bye through town. Took a real toll to his emotions.
I leave that radio playin'
Same ole country station
Where you left it.
Yeah, man, I crank it up.
Soft tears rolled down his cheeks as he once again slid his hands across the wheel, looking in front of him.
You'd probably punch my arm right now.
If you saw this tear rollin' down my face.
Hey man I'm tryin be tough.
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Mama asked me this morning if,
"You've been by his grave?" A women asked softly sitting next to the brunette. She was currently looking through an old picture book of her many kids.
But that flag of stone ain't where I feel you anyway.
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I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field I tear it up
Till all the pains a cloud of dust
Yes sometimes I drive your truck.
The brunette pressed down on th gas pedal once more and drove around not caring about the dust blocking his vision or the sound of the axles rubbing against the metal for turning so sharply.
I've cussed, I've prayed, I've said goodbye.
Shook my fist and asked God why?
But these days when I'm missing you this much...
The brunette calmed down and began heading back home. Loving the feeling of wind in his hair, the smell of gas. The memories shared between him and his brother reminded him.
I drive your truck.
I roll every window down.. And I burn up.
Every back road in this town.
I find a field I tear it up.
Till all the pains a cloud of dust
Yeah brother sometimes. I drive your truck.
I hope you don't mind, hope you don't mind I drive your truck.
He took the keys out of the egnition, stepping out and turned around. Taking one last view of the truck before turning around to his family.
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Find things that help cope, not things that'll hurt you more. ❤️
