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Marty Robbins

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Twentieth Century Drifter

by Marty Robbins

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Lyrics: Drivin' my race car is my way of making a livin' My way of puttin' the bread on the table at home I'm gettin' back about half as much as I'm givin' And I couldn't make it without a good woman at home First place could be just a dream but I'm gonna chase it Finishing out of the top ten is nothing but bad And a junker won't ever be first I might as well face it First class equipment is somethin' a man's got to have You might even call me a twentieth century drifter Thirty-two weekends I load up the car and I'm gone And my woman cries with each goodbye kiss that I give her And she prayes that come Monday morning and I'll be driftin' home Well my woman sleeps in my arms and I lie here thinkin' Half awake half asleep I run and re-run the race From dark end till dawn it goes on my half awake dreamin' And ever so often I dream of me taking first place It's got to be more than a dream dreamin' won't make it Or dreaming won't ever put bread on the table at home And racing runs deep in my veins and I'll never shake it I'm tied to it just like I'm tied to the woman at home You might even call me a twentieth century drifter...
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