Sitting there
Nostalgic inflow
Creating cyclonic updrafts
While memories pass
Through the open windows
Down  once crowded corridors
Carrying away the last remnants
On out the other side
Where the broken doors of my mind reside
Behind the steering wheel I sit
Upon this crumbling and cracked concrete slab
Now so rough
But once smooth enough
The breakout games of basketball
In this neighborhood once proud
The waning sun of summer days
Pulling in the shade bound refugees
Around the court the gathering crowd
Pulling in those kids from  two
Even as far as three blocks away
Inevitable that kids will do what kids will do
A foul or  some minor slight
Would divide the crowd
War of words would insight a fight
And as always it got so loud
That it would wake my dad from his evening nap
He'd  struggle up  out of the easy chair
Still wrapped in the deep slumber
Of the Schlitz 6-pack  he had laid down under
He'd hit the door and kids would scatter
Booming out so angry and loud
I was surprised the single pane glass didn't shatter
That was my pop but he was alright
Actually he was much more than that
As the  rerun would play the very next night
He's  been gone now for near 20 years
Mom couldn't take it tagged along just three years later
Poor old house is empty.... falling apart
Should have torn it down 10 years ago Tell the truth I never had the heart
Hell I been here long enough need to go
I push the down button let the window roll
Look at the house and I yell out
Dad
lf you're here no reason to stick around Freeway is coming it's all coming down So if you want to climb on in
This new car that the old place bought
And well go for a spin
I got a new place up in the hills
Yeah...
But what else do you do sitting upon Sacred ground where you used to play
I know it seems dumb maybe a bit sad
What else do you say before its gone
When saying goodbye to the house
  Hand-built by your dad