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: