Wrightsgaming The Can And Junk Man

[Intro] Canadian Productions, subscribe to wrightsgaming [Verse 1] Dusty roads and rusty wheels, he’s rolling through the town, A pickup truck of treasures lost, the junk man wears his crown. Tin cans clatter, engines hum, he’s scavenging the past, A nickel here, a copper there, he’ll make the salvage last. [Chorus] Oh, Wrightsgaming’s on the grind, a dollar in his hand, The can man’s choir, the scrap-yard fire, he’s king of what’s unmanned. From dawn till dusk, he’s turning rust to stories he can sell, The junk man’s hymn, the world grows dim, but he knows the scraps so well. [Verse 2] A bent-up bike, a broken chain, a radio that’s d**d, He’ll strip it down to bones and wires, keep the ghosts well-fed. The neighbors laugh, they shake their heads, but he just tips his hat, “One man’s trash is my cold cash—ain’t no use in chattin’ back!” [Bridge] He’s got the rhythm of the road, the clank of iron beats, A folk-rock soul in a gravel hole where the highway never sleeps. The cans sing loud, the engine’s proud, the junk man’s melody, A working tune beneath the moon, where the wild and worn run free. [Chorus] Oh, Wrightsgaming’s on the grind, a dollar in his hand, The can man’s choir, the scrap-yard fire, he’s king of what’s unmanned. From dawn till dusk, he’s turning rust to stories he can sell, The junk man’s hymn, the world grows dim, but he knows the scraps so well. [Outro]