Текст: Martina McBride. Wild Angels. Cry on The Shoulder of The Road.

I'm rollin' out of Bakersfield
My own private hell on wheels
But this time
I'm gone for good
I've never gone this far before
Beyond the slammin' of the back screen door
But you never loved me
Like you should

And there ain't no tellin' what I'll find
But I might as well move down the line
'Cuz there's no comfort here in your zip code
I'd rather break down on the highway
With no one to share my load
Cry on the shoulder of the road

It makes me feel a little low
Steel guitar on the radio
And it's kinda scary
The way these truckers fly
So this is how leavin' feels
Drinking coffee and making deals
With the one above
To get me through the night

'Cuz there ain't no tellin' what I'll find
But I might as well move down the line
'Cuz there's no comfort here in your zip code
I'd rather break down on the highway
With no one to share my load
Cry on the shoulder of the road

And there ain't no tellin' what I'll find
But I might as well move down the line
'Cuz there's no comfort here in your zip code
I'd rather break down on the highway
With no one to share my load
Cry on the shoulder of the road
Cry on the shoulder of the road