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After three good years together we had our first big fight |
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So she went to her mother's and I went for a ride |
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Down an old familiar highway, just a few miles out of town |
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To that rundown one-room tavern that used to be my stomping ground |
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Well I pulled in the driveway, you know it all still looked the same |
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And I couldn't wait to down a few and hear that jukebox ring |
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Well as I walked into the doorway, oh there stood some kind of Matre D' |
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Well he looked me up and he looked me down, said |
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"May I help you please?", and I said |
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"What'd you do with those swinging doors? |
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Where's the sawdust, on the floor? |
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Why's everybody wearing suits and ties? |
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From where I stand I can't believe my eyes |
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And who's idea was it to hang these furs? |
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This brand new bar don't have a single burn |
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I guess I'm somewhere that I don't belong |
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I need a jukebox with a country song" |
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Well I look back to the corner where the jukebox once stood proud |
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Some fool was playing records, too fast, too long, and too loud |
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And it must have been a big mistake to try to speak my mind |
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So as they were asking me to leave I cried out one more time |
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What'd you do with those swinging doors? |
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Where's the sawdust, on the floor? |
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Why's everybody wearing suits and ties? |
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From where I stand I can't believe my eyes |
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And who's idea was it to hang these furs? |
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This brand new bar don't have a single burn |
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I guess I'm somewhere that I don't belong |
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I need a jukebox with a country song |
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I guess I don't belong without a jukebox and a country song |
