Trevor
Trevor, I'm not gonna cover for you anymore
I'm not gonna fill in for you at your auto-part store
While you're taking the women to your bed
I'm sleeping with a cold shotgun at my head
And nursing an unholy desire for pain

Trevor, the language of sorrow is spoken in my heart
You just wave a greasy hand from underneath your car
I know panels are your life
But if you want me to be your wife
You're just gonna have to learn a bit about pain

Trevor, let's go
There's something about you and the hard black road
Something about tomorrow I don't know

Trevor, I know
You just want to ride the endless road
Thеre's things about me you don't evеr want to know

Trevor, I've misplaced the parts
That make this engine run
And I'm gonna have to learn a bit about pain