Scoreboard Lights Songtext
von Old Heavy Hands

Kid, I know there ain′t much to say
Struck out in the last play of very last game
You were lost like a pop fly in the scoreboard lights
But you can't let it haunt you for the rest of your life

Sometimes you walk, baby, sometimes run
Left like a foul ball in the evening sun
I don′t wanna hear your summer songs when the nights get cold
Weighed down with overcoats in the Midwest snow


Tired and dusty, the memories worth making
Your knees are weak from adrenaline-shaking
Through all the waiting, anticipating
C'mon, there's good times worth celebrating

And just like that, one day you′re obsolete
"Woulda, coulda, shoulda been" is a deep dark disease
So you lie awake in bed at night when you can′t find peace
Done holding on to someone else's dream

Kid is grown now with kids his own
Sits up in the stands now when the sun sinks low
Ballpark summer songs in the nighttime sky
Lit up the scoreboard like the Fourth of July


Tired and dusty, the memories worth making
Your knees are weak from adrenaline-shaking
Through all the waiting, anticipating
C′mon, there's good times worth celebrating again