Southwestern Territory

Small screen, July evening view

Up and down Grand Avenue

Where the legends get made

Out with the boys' brigade

Part of the motorcade

Flew home from Texas last night

Slept on the flight

Work like a dog all day

Born to chase cars away

Die on the road someday

I try to remember what life was like long ago

But it's gone, you know

Climb the turnbuckle high

Take two falls out of three

Blackout for local TV

Stand in that cold empty hall

Wait for your name to get called

Burn like hillsides on fire

In the squall of the ringside choir

High as a wire

Nearly drive Danny's nose back into his brain

All the cheap seats go insane

Keep my eyes open and try to think straight

No one drives on the 60 this late

Feel like the last person alive

Francisquito to Glenshaw Drive

I try to remember to write in the diary

That my son gave me

Climb the turnbuckle high

Take two falls out of three

Blackout for local TV