re: Fort Worth Star-Telegram writer reporting Saban to Texas

Rat in a drain ditch, caught on a limb
You know better, but I know him

Like I told you, like I said
Steal your face right off your head

And now he's gone
Now he's gone, Lord he's gone
He's gone
Like a steam locomotive rolling down the track
He's gone, gone, and nothing's gonna bring him back
He's gone

Nine mile skid on a ten mile ride
Hot as a pistol but cool inside

Cat on a tin roof, dogs in a pile
Nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile

Going where the wind don't blow so strange
Maybe off on some high cold mountain range
Lost one round but the price wasn't anything
A knife in the back and more of the same

Same old
Rat in a drain ditch, caught on a limb
You know better, but I know him

Like I told you, like I said
Steal your face right off your head

Ooh, nothing's gonna bring him back
Ooh, nothing's gonna bring him back
Ooh, nothing's gonna bring him back

He's Gone