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[Verse 1]
Whispers crackle down the barber-shop wire,
Say I’m octane sin and a spark to any fire.
You’re chapel-bell sweet in a summer-dress glow,
But your grin’s got a dare only moonset will know.
Dash-light flickers on a freedom I stole,
You slide in, laughing, toss caution in the hole.
Tailpipes kiss gravel, stars shiver awake—
Two hearts on the lam with the night at stake.
[Chorus]
Bad-boy motor, sweet-girl flame,
Side-rail thunder, no one to blame.
Lean in closer—let the quiet die;
Hold on, angel, let your halo fly.
[Verse 2]
Mailbox shadows blur as we rocket past the mill,
Your daddy’s rules fading over cotton-field hills.
You swap honor-roll curls for a wind-whipped crown,
Trade gold-star grades for a run-down town.
Bonfire bleachers, cheap vinyl sings,
We toast to the trouble that midnight brings.
Promise I’ll steer you home before the rooster moans—
But the rooster’s a liar when gasoline groans.
[Chorus]
Bad-boy motor, sweet-girl flame,
Side-rail thunder, no one to blame.
Lean in closer—let the quiet die;
Hold on, angel, let your halo fly.
[Chorus]
Bad-boy motor, sweet-girl flame,
Side-rail thunder, no one to blame.
Lean in closer—let the quiet die;
Hold on, angel, let your halo fly.

Gasoline Angels Gone Rogue

If you like the music please share & subscribe, thanks!

https://youtu.be/s1Nn7VHvXsM
https://www.youtube.com/@theartificialhomewreckers
https://soundcloud.com/theartificialhomewreckers
https://open.spotify.com/artist/0TuHLZaDhxt6bLGZGKukJ7
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/the-artificial-home-wreckers/1787896253
https://theartificialhomewreckers.bandcamp.com/
https://theartificialhomewreckers.com/

[Verse 1]
Old flatbed Ford on a red‑clay lane,
Backfire pops like a box‑car train.
Moonshine grin underneath my brim,
Friday‑night sin runs rim‑to‑rim.
[Chorus]
Ride along, feel that four‑speed roar,
Bonfire sparks on the creek‑side shore.
Crank up Hank ’til the speakers fry,
Swing your girl ’neath a cornbread sky.
Same two chords keep rollin’ strong,
You’ll sell your soul for that old‑school song.
[Verse 2]
You’ve heard tailgate tales of Daisy Dukes,
Honky‑tonk heroes and barroom jukes.
Just wait ’til she spins when the fiddle slides,
Boot‑heel thunder where the river rides.
[Chorus]
Hang loose, watch the sawdust twirl,
Neon halo ’round a Wrangler girl.
Let her tune that country dial,
She’ll steal your heart in a single mile.
Same two chords—truth we own,
Once it hooks ya, it won’t leave ya alone.
[Bridge]
Come Sunday morn, the pew sits still,
Choir‑house echoes across the hill.
Bow your head when the preacher speaks,
Grace runs deep in the rolling creeks.
[Chorus]
Fire up that Ford when the prayers are done,
Carry that hymn like a loaded gun.
Same two chords on a beat‑up box,
Holy riot under feed‑store clocks.
Cornbread sky and the dust we stir,
That same old song still cures what hurts.

Whiskey‑Wired Choir

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We country swerving a tad towards rock n roll! You can easily navigate genres in the Playlist section.

Strumming their way through heartbreak, hilarity, and highway hijinks, The Artificial Home Wreckers are a country rock band like no other. Born from a chance encounter at a roadside diner with a broken jukebox, these renegades of rhythm specialize in songs that sound like a wild Friday night and feel like a hungover Saturday morning.

Their music is a cocktail of twangy guitars, foot-stomping beats, and lyrics that toe the line between tragic and downright ridiculous. From ballads about exes who "borrowed" their truck (and forgot to return it) to anthems about that one unforgettable karaoke night gone horribly wrong, they’ve got a tune for every lovable misfit out there.

Catch them on tour (if their GPS actually works this time), and remember their motto: “Breaking homes one chorus at a time!”

New tracks tagged #truckmusic,