[spoken:] Hey Brock! Nice calves… [chuckles] One, two, three,… [INTRO] Roaster’s up in the grocery lot— and now the whole place smells like trouble. [Band eases in on the groove.] [VERSE 1] August sun on a baking hood, heat rising off a Chevy roof, fly ball drifting through the lot like it’s chasing something loose. By the bumper line it drops in front— scuffed leather in the dusty breeze, and a woman at her tailgate with a glove held out to me. She says, "You gonna catch?" I say, "If it’s you." She laughs, "Careful what you do." Fingers close around the stitching, heartbeat thumping like a groove. [PRE-CHORUS] Smoke in the air, sun in our eyes, nobody rushing, nobody minds. Between the carts and where we park, something simple turns into ours. [CHORUS] Catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun, a stray-ball story in the summer sun. Quick little laughter, breath on the lung— catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun. Strangers turn teammates when the play is done, hotter than August but twice the fun. Ain’t gotta go far when the good times come— catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun. [VERSE 2] The whole lot watches like a show, old man grins, "Don’t let it drop." Kid pops up from a paper sack— shouts, "Toss it here, make it stop!" Cashier leans on sliding doors, like this is just another day, cart boy taps a broken rhythm while the radio fights its way. She calls, "Throw it back!" like church— but louder yet. And suddenly it’s not just parking, it’s something we won’t forget. [PRE-CHORUS] No velvet rope, no ticket stand, just strangers gathered where we land. No big plan, no grand design— just chances hanging on borrowed time. [CHORUS] Catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun, a stray-ball story in the summer sun. Quick little laughter, breath on the lung— catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun. Strangers turn teammates when the play is done, hotter than August but twice the fun. Ain’t gotta go far when the good times come— catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun. [INSTRUMENTAL BREAK] [VERSE 3] Started with a roaster and a cart, a sign, a stack, a summer day, now a looping game of catch feels like it’s always been this way. Came for a list and checkout line, something quick to beat the heat, but I’m still standing in the haze counting passes at my feet. She says, "Hold it just a second," like time don’t cost a thing, and suddenly the world feels closer than anything I’ve seen. Maybe joy don’t need a reason— maybe it just shows its face in a grocery lot in August heat, in an ordinary place. [BRIDGE – SIMPLIFIED CALL & RESPONSE] Hot! HOT! Glove! GLOVE! Pop fly! THAT’S WHAT THEY SAID! One bounce— CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT! Nah— hand me another one! [FINAL CHORUS] Catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun, a stray-ball story in the summer sun. Quick little laughter, breath on the lung— catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun. Strangers turn teammates when the day is done, dance by the carts till the daylight’s gone. Hotter than August but twice the fun— catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun. Life ain’t somewhere we’re waiting to become— sometimes it’s happening right where you’re from. So raise that glove, let the shouts roll, put a little fire in your hungry soul. Catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun— HEY! Catch, feel the spark, parking lot fun! [OUTRO] Parking lot fading, sun slipping down, voices still echo after the crowd’s gone. [Spoken, half-smile:] Came for groceries… left with fire, laughter, and "I got this one." Still don’t know where I parked. [Harmonica chuckles]
