Everyday I Think Of Money

I drive a truck, it carries money

And everyday, I dream up my fantasies

Yesterday, I bought my beach house

A little place just off the coast of France

Everyday, I think of money

Everyday, I think of running

I love my truck, I love my family

Stacked in the back, the good life surrounds me

Could tie my right hand man

And put him some place

Then I'd ditch the truck

And buy a new face

Everyday, I think of money

Everyday, I think of someway

It can't buy you love

It can't give you a soul

Can pick you up

Can down you low

Can drag you out, of the hole

You dug

Yourself

Out of ... again

Sat in a truck, it carries convicts

My hands are bound, to the seat by handcuffs

Tomorrow, I'll maybe walk around the yard

Or paint in my cell, and hate imprisonment

Everyday I think of money

Everyday I miss my family