Outlaw Saints! Raise it up! Lady Red! Light it up! Turn it up, let the bass line roll— The dead world’s dancin’ till the floorboards break! Twenty-twenty-six, the whole damn world went up in flames, I was fifty-two, beside Amanda, callin’ out her name. Houston choked with smoke; the crowd split us apart, I reached for her hand, but she was gone into the dark. The evacuation scattered us; the phones all went dead, I searched the streets and shelters, but found no trace instead. Now it’s twenty-sixty-six, I’m ninety-two, still alone, Forty years of searchin’, never knowin’ where she’d gone. Then I found The Last Chance, neon buzzin’ out front, And an old jukebox playin’ songs I couldn’t give up on. The Last Chance sat where the busted highway died, One metal-armed cowboy drank; drifters lined the wall. One TSCMS song brought back the life we shared, For three minutes, I could almost feel her there. Then the record caught and skipped; the memories broke apart, I reached for what I couldn’t touch, her echo in my heart. I searched through every rumor, every town along the way, Still wonderin’ each midnight if she’d survived that day. Jim B! Turn it loose! Chef Juan! Bring that juice! Turn that bass up, let the whole place roll— Country rap’s alive with that outlaw soul! The Old Julebox Is Still Alive, Playin’ songs from a world gone cold. While the outside world falls to pieces, It keeps a little piece of home. The whole damn world’s been left behind, But time can’t kill what love keeps alive— The Old Julebox Is Still Alive, Keeps Amanda’s voice alive in mine. I kept her picture close to me through every lonely year, Remembered gray-green eyes and the little things held dear. Old house shoes by the doorway, coffee strong and sweet, She’d hum while dawn laid gold across the kitchen floor. I never knew those little things were what I’d miss the most, So I’d ask that old jukebox to bring her memory close. Then drink alone beneath the lights and pray she’d find the road. Rob Gomez! Crank it loud! Zoe Titterton! Shake that crowd! If the world’s gone black, let the speakers glow— That old jukebox won’t let the memories go! Matt Spencer! Raise it high! Ron Ferguson! Touch the sky! Eight names ringin’ through the night— Though the world broke down, the songs survive! The front door opened. Cold wind crossed the floor. A woman’s voice cut through the whiskey buzz. Silver hair—but those eyes I knew. Neither of us could speak. Then she said— “Mark?” I stood up slow, afraid she’d fade away. My Amanda—alive after all this time. “You got old,” I whispered, tears burnin’ my eyes. “So did you, sweetheart. I prayed you’d still be alive.” I held her close as the old jukebox played. The Old Julebox Is Still Alive, Forty years couldn’t kill the love I thought I’d never hold. Tonight, I’m not alone to cry— The Old Julebox Is Still Alive, Amanda’s here by my side. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Starvin’, darlin’. You?” She laughed the way she used to. Outside, the world’s still broken. But she’s here. Right here with me. And the Old Julebox Is Still Alive.
