Well my name is Ray ThomasnA truck north of herenAnd I’ll spin you a tale if you lend me your earnAnd ya keep me with a smoke and a beernWell I’m 65 now and I’m still on the roadnDoing locals up north in the snow and the coldnBut at night it’s back home where I’ll drop off my loadnAnd I’ll go out to see my Michaela…nnAnd it’s Fitzy’s in town where us locals do dwellnAnd the booze treats you right and it’s all that they sellnAnd my girl in the skirt come right over to menAnd she serves me a beer, and she’s all that I seenOh Michaela…nnMichaela you’re a vision to these eyes of minenAnd you can talk to me any and every old timenYou’re the reason I’m still on this earth can’t you see?nYou’re a goddess, a poet, a beauty to me…nnWell I killed a man once back in ‘73nI was a doing a job down in West TennesseenWhen a man fell asleep and swerved into the on-coming lanenThey all told me I wasn’t to blame…nnAnd I turned to the bottle, where I’ve been ever sincenAnd I ain’t coming back ‘till I’m no longer blitzednThat boy’s body was crushed all the way into his back seatnBy my eighteen wheel killer, my hands, and my feet…nnAnd on the hard days she knows and she gives me a smilenAnd I tell her a joke, and we’ll laugh for a whilenAnd she’ll keep the beers comin’ ‘till two or ‘till threenAnd I wrap myself up in my own fantasynWith Michaela…nnMichaela, you readin’ my mindnIt’s okay to forget for a while what’s behindnAnd you pardon my sentence with one mischievous linenYou make me truck home one more day at a time…nDay at a time…nnWell my eldest son, Randy, took off with a shoutnAnd a shot crossed my jaw, and he knocked me clean outnHe stood up on his feet, man I taught him to benWith my own swollen knuckles, like my dad did me…nAnd my two girls they live her in townnThey each married a Jones boy, to love they have foundnOr at least they’ll keep thinkin’ till they hit the groundnFrom a dream that grows old and faded…nnAnd my wife shuts her mouth cause I’m payin’ the rentnAnd I’ll beat her like hell, and that’s where I’ll be sentnFor I’ve known all along since I was born where I’m boundnTo a place where I’ll no longer hear the sweet soundnOf Michaela…nnMichaela, oh angel, you’ll turn me aroundnYou’re the daughter, and lover, and meaning I’ve foundnAnd you are not cursed by the Thomas bloodlinenYou do right know me, and thank your God and thank mine…nThank mine…nnGrew up as a farm-girl, she’s paving her waynAnd it’s waitress by night and it’s study by daynThat she’ll soon make a fortune don’t come as a surprisenAs she takes on the world with invincible eyes…nnOh my blue collar princess, such wit and such gracenAs she snaps at the sinners who frequent this placenAs they try to caress her, or take a just tastenFor I’m sure that she tastes just like honey…nnWork now three years at Fitzy’s, come May or come JunenAnd the men who come see her, they fill up the roomnAnd we each get a turn at her service divinenAs we’re poured retribution, one a timenBy Michaela…nnMichaela, you never will know nThe extent your magic to us down belownAnd Michaela, I’m yours ‘till the day that I dienBut I know that your future is greater than I…nGreater than I…nnOh, my Michaela…nYeah…nYeah, yeah, yeah…