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.