And out on the road
The only truckers left
Are the ones who can’t make it home.
The CB is quiet as miles roll by
Sometimes it’s so lonely one may even cry.
But there’s freight to move and money to earn
The bills can’t get paid if those wheels don’t continue to turn.
There won’t be any gifts or holiday cheer
No laughter or games, cause nobody is here.
They may find a restaurant, where they’ll sit alone
Wishing that some how they could be home.
There’s no children to hug, no dog to pet
It’s just an empty truck with a small empty bed.
So for all the truckers still out on the road
Our prayers are with you, that you can be home.