They called him Neon Leon, he was an burnt out country star
Livin on the scraps of food he `d find and the beer he he` d beg in bars
They say that once he d been a charmer, with his strings and songs so fine
Before he ever started racin` down one of life s short lines
Time was Leon had a wife , but even that was way back when
Before his race down screamin tracks all worn down smooth with sin
Not even last year`s jukebox can recall poor Leon`s name
Was shootin dope or snortin` coke , or just hard livin to blame
Watch out where you goin , Leon
You re no longer in the neon , Leon
You did n t realy need to pay your dues so soon , dear Leon
But the time you had left was realy flyin`
Leon, just about a month ago got one more chance to make the neon glow
When a Nashville fan and Opry man signed him to do another showLeon stepped up on the stage to the heat of lights and swelling cheers
And tried his best to play his songs inspite of slowly growing fears
Those hands that once had played so nimble, began first to sweat and then to fail
And then began to tremble
And Leon`s punding, drug charged heart began to beat too fast
And Leon stumbled and Leon fell, and Leon breathed his last
Watch out where you goin Leon
.
There wasn t hardly anyone, that day at Leon`s buryin `
Just me and four old guys I hired to do the digging`and the carryin`
Leon`s faded smile in death filled my soul with painful hurt
He wore his fancy hat and tattered suit - he wore his beer stained shirt
His guitar hands held his guitar tight and pressed it to his chest
While all these forgotten songs of his played softly in my breast
And down in cold and damp and dark and silent country ground
I looked my last at the burnt out boy when they laid his body down
So now you`re headed off to heaven, Leon
Where you ll find another kind of neon, Leon
But in your race through life you were realy flying
This is my fairwell to you, dear Leon