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It must be hard ringing the bells |
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Of doors that don't swing wide anymore |
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It must be hard hearing the sound |
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Of voices just inside of the door |
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A man who couldn't hold your coat |
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Who's hung on ever antidote |
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So it must be hard watching the fellows gloat |
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Ballantines |
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It must be hard seeing the same old crowd |
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Just pass you by in the street |
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It must be tough knowing your stuff |
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Could only horrify the elite |
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You cut off everyone you know |
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Boy you told `em all where to go |
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Now it must be hard getting the same revoke |
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Ballantines |
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Well, patrons at the bar in |
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Lexington |
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KentuckyWho sprung for every drink you downed |
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With things the way they are it's not that kind of party |
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If what you've got might just be good (?) |
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The fat cows won't be getting thin |
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Seeing the kind of jam you're in |
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Though the angels dance on the head of another pin |
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Ballantines |
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Ballantines |
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Ballantines |
