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I, um, I released a record this year, it's called "The Great American Bar Scene"
And this is a song I wrote called "The Great American Bar Scene"
I lost my money to some dirty old bookie
Way up in Philly, he was a bad man
But you can't bet your life on the table
When you've got yourself a bad hand
So I went and got my good friend Mickey
And we made ourselves a bold stand
Wound up bleedin' on the bar floor
We don't bet on ball no more
Where the bets are tough and bartenders mean
The great Philadelphian bar scene
My brother from Tulsa has got himself a warrant
But he's on the run up in Cheyenne
They hemmed me up and asked me some questions
But I ain't no damn rat, man
Put cuffs on so tight he started bleedin'
From his wrist down through to his right hand
Put "State Trooper" on the record machine
It's the great Philadelphian bar scene
Neon lightin', wooden floors lightly
As her feet quietly slide across
Tough boys have all came and went
She's a-heaven-sent and I'm at a loss
So if you've got the time, I've got the quarter
And a two-steppin' song called "Hey Porter"
Why does love always feel like a fever dream
In the great Pennsylvanian bar scene?
My heart stays hurtin' and hands stay workin'
And me, I'm still just a sinnin' man
I've tried like hell to keep my health
Treat others well and understand
Why life's unfair, uncertain and mean
It's the great Philadelphian bar scene
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