Living In A Truck Poem by Randy Johnson

We have very little money so we're living in our truck.
We are in need of shelter but sadly, we are out of luck.
My wife's dad offered to give us shelter but we had to obey his rules.
I turned him down, some people call me a rebel, others call me a fool.
I would kill to have a bed that is nice and soft.
Winter is coming up so we'll freeze our asses off.
When a man cussed my wife and I out, he had the mouth of a sailor.
He beat me up because we secretly moved into his travel trailer.
He said we could've lived in his travel trailer if we had asked first.
As he beat me senseless, I thought I would be hauled in a hearse.
We are both broke, people certainly can't say that we have big bucks.
Because I'm a rebel who won't live by rules, We'll continue to live in our truck.