Under BC's vast and rugged sky,
I drive my truck, where eagles fly.
My rig's heart, a cat motor, growls with might,
Echoes through the mountains, day or night.

Through the logging roads, where shadows play,
The diesel's roar marks the start of my day.
The tires howl on the turns, a wild, fierce sound,
A symphony of freedom on this sacred ground.

From the oil patch, where the earth speaks deep,
To the highways where memories seep.
My truck, my home, my constant friend,
Navigates the wilderness without an end.

The engine purrs, a beast of steel and chrome,
Telling tales of the long, lonely road I roam.
Tires singing on the asphalt, a song of the free,
Through BC's heart, where I choose to be.

Logging, oil, the carnival's lights,
But in my truck, under the stars, I find my rights.
With the cat motor growling, tires howling in the night,
I'm a trucker, BC's endless road my guiding light.