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Who Is That Man

U.I. Generated Song from ‪@HeadwindsAIMusic‬ about a long-haul truck driver who seldom gets to come home to see his wife and little boy who asked Mommy, 'Who is that man?'. (country, Modern pop-country ballad with male vocals, gentle acoustic guitar and warm piano up front, Verses sit soft and conversational with brushed kit and subtle pedal steel; chorus swells with big harmonies, toms, and a sing-along arena feel, Second half adds fiddle lines and a key lift for emotional punch, then strips back to acoustic and vocal for a tender outro, pop) Lyrics: Bug splats on the windshield Coffee gone cold in my hand Three more states till Friday Same white lines, same FM band Picture of you on the visor Crayon hearts taped by his bed But I’m a stranger in my own house That’s what you finally said You were standin’ in the doorway Tryin’ hard to hold your ground Said, “Baby, he asked me something That spun my whole world around” [Chorus] He said, “Mommy, who is that man Droppin’ bags in the hallway, smells like gasoline and sand? Why he know my name But he never holds my hand?” Yeah, that cut clean through my pride Like a double yellow line I can’t be a ghost in my own plan When my little boy asks, “Who is that man?” I remember that Lego set Promised I’d build it when I got back You sent a picture on a Sunday He’d already made his own racetrack Birthday cake on the phone screen Candles blown out through the glass I sang off-key to a bad connection While another mile rolled past Then you whispered through the static “Baby, we can’t live like this He should know your laugh and temper Not just a boots-and-hat silhouette” He said, “Mommy, who is that man Droppin’ bags in the hallway, smells like gasoline and sand? Why he know my name But he never holds my hand?” Yeah, that cut clean through my pride Like a double yellow line I can’t be a ghost in my own plan When my little boy asks, “Who is that man?” I pulled this rig to the shoulder Sun bleed red across the sky Called dispatch, said, “Find another I got a boy to raise, a life to try” I’ll take smaller roads and smaller paychecks Coaching Little League in the stands ‘Cause I’d rather be broke in that front yard Than rich when he asks, “Who is that man?” He said, “Mommy, who is that man Droppin’ bags in the hallway, smells like gasoline and sand? Why he know my name But he never holds my hand?” Yeah, that cut clean through my pride Like a double yellow line I can’t be a ghost in my own plan When my little boy asks, “Who is that man?” End Lyrics: