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!