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
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 Flew home from Texas last night
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 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, ya know
 Climb the turnbuckle high
 Take two falls out of three
 Blackout for local TV
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 Stand in that cold empty hall
 Wait for your name to get called
 Burn like hillsides on fire
 In the scrawl of the ringside choir
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 High as a wire
 Nearly drive Danny's nose back into his brain
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 All the cheap seats go insane
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 Keep my eyes open and try to think straight
 No one drives on the 60 this late
 
 I feel like the last person alive
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 Francisquito to Glenshaw Drive
 I try to remember to write in the diary
 That my son gave me
 Climb the turnbuckle high
 Take to falls out of three
 Blackout for local TV