It's one of the saddest songs I've ever heard. It isn't about the death of love or the death of a dear friend or relative, but rather about the death of childood. The day Boyd passed - September 12, 1972 - was the day many childhoods died along with him, leaving only - as the song says - a lifetime of memories.
Being born in 1986, I haven't had the opportunity my parents and grandparents had to enjoy heroes like Hopalong Cassidy, Marshal Dillon, The Lone Ranger, and others that allowed them to make believe and forget whatever might have been bothering them and whatever was bad in the world around them. That kind of hero had died out before I was born, living on only in the memories of those who came before. Thankfully, in some cases they also lived on in syndication. My babysitters as a child were Adam West and the rest of the cast of the '60s Batman show, which I watched every day for two years on FOX 18, the Charlotte affiliate, and for many days and years afterwards on my vhs of recorded episodes after we moved back to Georgia in 1992.
That's not to say I don't have my heroes. Most of them, though, are real life people, some dead, some living, who did or do real life things like drive race cars, play baseball, etc. My generation is devoid of the kind of heroes who allow us to tap that most beautiful asset God gave us: our imaginations.
With that, I hope you enjoy the song:
"My fans have more balls." - Tony Stewart on Jeff Gordon's fans.