Turnpike Troubadours

In the old town square. The trumpets blow. The dawn breaks. Through the local drone. She fires a look. Knocks you outta your shoes.

Have a seat at the table, my new dear friend And all I know, I'll tell There is no end, no great reward No Heaven high or Hell Your past is a memory soon to be Left to fade in time Your future just a fever dream A construct of your mind

Tommy and his dad drive up to the Will Rogers center in Fort Worth, with Dad wanting out of the truck.