I was pullin' up a hill that's known as the Devil's Crest,
Haulin' 36 ton on a run called the Nitro Express.
There was nothin' but curves a runnin' from the top on down,
And at the bottom of the grade sat a quiet little country town.
Well, I was drivin' off the top when she jarred and the driveshaft broke,
Started pumpin' up the brakes, saw 'em going in a big cloud of smoke.
To keep 'er upright... I knew I had to do my best,
Against a runaway bomb they call the Nitro Express.
There was 36 ton of a detonated steel,
Over 18 tires that smoked and squealed.
I had to ride her down and I couldn't jump free,
Or there'd be a big hole where that little town used to be.
Well that old trailer leaned each time that I took another curve,
My hands started sweatin' and I knew I was losin' my nerve.
And I was cussin' each rock and every inch of the Devil's Crest,
A fightin' with the wheel of a rig called the Nitro Express.
I side-swipped a mountain so I'd slow her down by rubbin' her side,
And when the sparks started flyin' man it looked like the 4th of July.
I finally got her stopped... But mister I'm a gonna confess,
That's the last run I'm makin' in a rig called the Nitro Express.
(Repeat Chorus - change last line to.. Cause there'd be a big
Hole where that little town used to be.