He shoved me inside his government truck, the color of a bruisenHe drove a country mile outside town, said get out boy, and that's what I did donI walked over to that sign, it read the Old Service RoadnHe had his window up tight shut, when I asked hey mister where does it go?n-He mouthed-you don't wanna know what goes on down the Old Service Road-nHe left me with a tire iron, instructions and a list of namesnI was left to guard that road, in that service I did remainnI stuck the list to the back-side of the sign, 'cause that list it held the name of my brothernI used the iron as a baseball bat, when the rocks hit the sign it made the sound of forevernI thought to re-arange that list, knock them letters roundnBut the front still read the Old Service Road, on the back side my brother's name I still foundn-I don't wanna know what goes on down the Old Service Road-nA hand built two- seater come down the service road, the driver avoided my eyesnhe was a mix skin of mexican descent, he opened the window shynI tapped my iron 'ginst his metal car, I went giddy at the sound of forevernun-shyly out the window leaped a dog, to the dog I 'plied the traits of my brothernIt slunk on over to the sign, let loose and made the sign its ownnI scanned the list for some sign of a dog, but there was only my brother's name alone nI scratched off his name said goodbye Argos, the dog went down the Old Service RoadnShyly out the window the mexican said, donde my perronn-You don't wanna know what goes on down the Old Service Road-