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...