My story about a pal of mine He walked down near the Georgia lineDJ in a little country station Everybody loved him dearCause he played what they liked to hear He built himself up quite a reputationBy the record tops he'd stay out late And his mom would always waitTo see if he had made it home alive She warned against his loss of sleepAnd driving fast in that old heap And that he'd have to be at work by fiveDJs and DJs, you're living much too fastDJs and DJs, you're living much too fastAnd if you don't change your ways Don't see how you can lieEvery morning just past four From the driveway he would roarOverslept and he was late againAnd I'd break next speedy drive To sign the station on at fiveHe had lots of records he must spendMom said,He'd be up by the radio Until his voice told her helloShe knew then he'd made it there all right Then she'd say a little prayerHe was safe cause he was there And she'd wait up for him again tonightThen one cold and rainy morn All four tires were badly wornBut he scratched off then Just as fast as timeP.J. had a lot of nerve But he completely missed the curveAnd he signed off down near the Georgia lineMom sat by the radio The voice she heard she didn't knowP.J.'s never been this late beforeBut with the road so bad and all She'd wait a while before she'd callAnd then she heard the knock upon the doorP.J. the DJ's only twenty-four A rack at ninety miles an hourHe'll spin the hits no more