My story about a pal of mine He walked down near the Georgia line
DJ in a little country station Everybody loved him dear
Cause he played what they liked to hear He built himself up quite a reputation
By the record tops he'd stay out late And his mom would always wait
To see if he had made it home alive She warned against his loss of sleep
And driving fast in that old heap And that he'd have to be at work by five
DJs and DJs, you're living much too fast
DJs and DJs, you're living much too fast

And if you don't change your ways Don't see how you can lie
Every morning just past four From the driveway he would roar
Overslept and he was late again
And I'd break next speedy drive To sign the station on at five
He had lots of records he must spend
Mom said,
He'd be up by the radio Until his voice told her hello
She knew then he'd made it there all right Then she'd say a little prayer
He was safe cause he was there And she'd wait up for him again tonight
Then one cold and rainy morn All four tires were badly worn
But he scratched off then Just as fast as time
P.J. had a lot of nerve But he completely missed the curve
And he signed off down near the Georgia line
Mom sat by the radio The voice she heard she didn't know
P.J.'s never been this late before
But with the road so bad and all She'd wait a while before she'd call
And then she heard the knock upon the door
P.J. the DJ's only twenty-four A rack at ninety miles an hour
He'll spin the hits no more