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Tear it down in double quick time To get the eighth truck shifted 'bout midnight The locker rooms are empty but the (Strobo Tickers?) (strobe boats?) still spin with their pitching lights And someone with a yellow pass Gives out precise directions as to where and when
And here am I with a drumstick, While young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again Tomorrow is an off-day, Be in Baltimore by Thursday is the only law. There's a suite down at the hotel Reserved for making merry with connecting doors. The lighting man's already improvised a bar, And printed invitations to the ball. Off duty cops line corridors wearing Tull (two?) T-shirts proudly on the band's (...) wall
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives, Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
Feeling that it might be wrong to Temporarily belong to the P.A. man (men?) Some angel from the midwest is regretting being Undressed with no suntan His polaroid is snapping The head carpenter is rapping on The gates of dawn
Sitting lonely with a warm beer The girl with dental braces wishes that she hadn't gone.
Crew nights, no bar fights or (feeders?) (veeders?) wives Thin walls and late (blade?) calls and nine lives.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives, Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
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