The Legend of Chavo Guerrero

Born down in El Paso, where the tumbleweeds blow,
To the middleweight champ of all Mexico.
Dad fought many bloody battles, and he raised four sons,
Chavo was the oldest one.

Old man Gory could pop like a live grenade,
Raised his boys in the way of the trade.
Hector, and Mando, and young Eddie G,
Chavo meant the most to me.

Look high: it's my last hope.
Chavo Guerrero, coming off the top rope.

He came from Texas, seeking fortune and fame,
Rose pretty quickly to the top of his game.
Defender of the downtrodden, king of the hill,
Tag-team champion with Al Madril.

Before a black and white TV, in the middle of the night.
I'm lying on the floor, I'm bathed in blue light,
With the telecast in Spanish, I can understand some.
And I need justice in my life: here it comes,

Look high: it's my last hope.
Chavo Guerrero, coming off the top rope.

Red Shoes Dugan,
Holding his arm high, all out of breath.
I hated all of Chavo's enemies,
I would pray nightly for their death.
Descending like fire,
On the people who deserved it most.
Always completely unknown,
Outside of Texas and on the West Coast.

He was my hero back when I was a kid,
You let me down, but Chavo never once did.
You called him names to try to get beneath my skin,
Now your ashes are scattered on the wind.

I heard his son got famous, and he went nationwide.
Coast-to-coast, with his dad by his side.
I don't know if that's true, but I've been told,
It's real sweet to grow old.

Look high: it's my last hope.
Chavo Guerrero, coming off the top rope.