Kingpin Rides Again
by Keith Jersperson

Well, Old Keith was a big man,
He stands real tall and mean
I have to tell you this;
He was the toughest trucker I have ever seen.

When you met him in a truckstop
you just knew where you stand
Should you get out of line,
You'd meet his right hand.

Wide at the shoulder
and narrow at the hip,
you wouldn't see it coming
until you felt his strong grip.

Used to wonder how he did it,
his hands all aged with sweat.
Many men have been trying,
but there's no better killer yet.

Many a man or woman
I have seen him reduce to tears.
As Keith gripped them tight,
With all his strength between their ears.

All the songs I have written
No truer words have been said;
Cross ol' Keith Hunter Jesperson, and
you might just end up dead

Years gone by and I pondered about his fate
About all the loads he hauled that were never late.

Some men search for money,
and others want to find gold.
Keith's only purpose in life;
was to pull just one more load.

Little did I know that he
became a killer seeking pleasure
every load he hauled,
he sought out victims to be measured.

I remembered being told of all
the places that he'd been.
The special routes and hideaways
he had found again and again.

Runaways, hitchhikers and whores
were vanishing from here to there.
No one know the truth
and no one seemed to care.

At home ol' Keith was angry,
his heart and mind seemed misplaced;
mention trucking and a roadway,
and a smile would come across his face.

Memories of carnage and chaos
grew as he dreamed.
Life seemed so empty to him,
as he though out his next scheme.

Many lives were lost as he held them in his hand,
he knew it wouldn't end until
he went to the promised land.

I told him to take it easy
going down California's Donner Pass;
But I could only hear him laugh out loud,
as he pushed down harder on the gas.

It happened at Three Corner rock
just a few years ago.
They say to this very day,
you can still hear his big rig roll.

As he crashed down that canyon,
I sadly dropped my head.
For it is Keith Hunter Jesperson,
who has schooled me for making people dead.

Well, I'm gonna "keep on truckin"
and that is my choice.
Picking up hitchhikers, whores, and motorists,
and listening to Keith's voice.

He says "Jr. you better hold on tight when
you pass me on Donner's pass,
for I might just kick your ass out
making that load your last."

I drive through the mountains
with the thought of Keith up there.
For I know he is still in me trucking,
as I smell the mountain air.

I know one day my time will come,
to pass on my well thought mission.
To someone just like Keith Hunter Jesperson
his hands like hammers,
and a mind with vision.

A man that could stand there alone smiling,
knowing his hands are lethal weapons;
silently thinking and contemplating
another life needs to be taken.

At last I have found him
the man of the moment.
He takes what I have taught him,
without expression or even a comment.

It is my turn now to leave him;
to drive down California's Donner pass
and all I can hear is Keith's loud laughter
as I slam my food down on the gas.

---a new beginning to an end
because eight is never enough---