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Baxter Black: My kinda truck

I like a pickup that looks like a truck

And not like a tropical fish.

Or a two-ton poodle with running lights



Or a mutant frog on a leash.

Give me one tough as a cast iron skillet



With a bumper that’s extra large

And a hood that weighs over eighty-five pounds

And looks like the prow on a barge.

I like style but since when should a truck

Be touted for comfort and ride.

Power windows on pickups? Reminds me of jeans

With a zipper that zips up the side.

They should soak up the dents of everyday life

Like a boxer losin’ his teeth.

And I like a truck, when you lift up the hood

You can see the ground underneath!

Pickups are kinda like welding gloves.

The pock marks are part of the deal.

Not pretty, just built to get the job done.

Like the dummy behind the wheel.

Don’t get me wrong, I know beauty’s skin deep

And ugly is the eye,

But to find out if your truck is my kinda truck

Here’s a test that you can apply:

If you have a small wreck in the parking lot

By backin’ a little too far,

Your only worry is how big a mess

You made of the other guy’s car!