That Blonde in the Pickup

Well, I reckon I fell for that blonde with the golden curls,
Sippin' sweet tea on a dusty ol' porch swing.
She smiled like summer in the Lone Star whirl,
Had me thinkin' she'd be my forever thing.

But darlin', irony's a coyote howlin' at the moon,
She stole my heart and my best Ford truck too.
Drove off with my dog and my last cold brew,
Leavin' me here, just a fool in cowboy boots.

I thought she was sugar, all soft and fine,
Turned out she's whiskey, burnin' down the line.
Blondes got more fun? Hell, they got more spine—
Mine's laughin' all the way to the county line.