Harley-Davidson. How do you see into my eyes like open doors? You lead me down into my core where I've become so numb. Without a soul, my spirit sleeps somewhere cold. Until you find it there and lead it back home. Wake me up, wake me up inside. I can't wake up, wake me up inside. Save me, call my name and save me from the dark. Wake me up, bid my
Breaker 19. 35 years chasing white lines. Now I've traded 18 wheels for two. Different machine, same old soul. They call me Wilmaster. And I ain't done rolling yet. 35 years on America's roads, hauling dreams and heavy loads. White Freightliner my home away, chasing the miles both night and day. Coffee and midnight diesel in my veins, from mountain
ANGELS IN THE HAMMER LANE THE SONG MAN. I picked up 24 brand new Harleys outside Milwaukee on a cold Friday night. Chrome shining under the trailer lights. Every one of them tied down tight. Dispatcher said, 'Get them to Phoenix by Monday morning.' I said, '10-4.' But somewhere west of Amarillo, trouble came calling. I was pulling a load of Milwauk
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