I drive your truck Every back road in this town I find a field, I tear it up I roll every window down and I burn up Till all the pain’s a cloud of dust Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck Eighty-nine cents in the ash tray Half empty bottle of Gatorade

You don't have to be Superman You don't have to hold the world in your hands You've already shown me that you can Don't have to be Superman If I could break away half of all your pain I'd take the worst of it and carry you like you carry me You say that

You always were the better part of me Open your eyes See through the pain Remember how we used to be Before you let it go Without you I'm half the man I used to be 'Cause all of our wrongs can't be made right Won't you let it go