| Hometown hero flexing his charm
|
| With a borderline joke to the guys at the bar
|
| And they slap their knees like they’ve not heard it before
|
| Thirty-five years old wearing his badge
|
| Nickname for life on the shoulder of his bomber
|
| That he wears as the coach of the high school team
|
| He lights his cigarette
|
| And says, «Man these things will kill me someday»
|
| Raises his glass and says, «Here's to hoping»
|
| Hometown hero flexing his arm
|
| With a five-yard pass to the end of the bar
|
| He says, «I'll be right back I’m just gonna go grab another pack.»
|
| Walks one block to the all-night station
|
| And steps into a situation
|
| There’s a man with a gun pointed at the nervous clerk
|
| And before he could think
|
| He was tackling the gunman
|
| Who hit his head and was knocked unconscious
|
| The clerk relieved said, «Oh my god
|
| You’re a hero man and you should stick around
|
| 'Til the cops get here, maybe you’ll make the morning news.»
|
| But the hometown hero rose to his feet
|
| Tossed him the gun and said, «Thanks, but I’ve gotta run
|
| I’ll take a pack of camel lights and be on my way.»
|
| He stepped outside the door
|
| Heard the sirens in the distance
|
| Lit his cigarette
|
| And said, «Man these things will kill me someday»
|
| Exhaled smoke and said, «Here's to hoping» |