- Lyrics
- Album list
Brock Zeman
-
Once Upon a Saturday Night
There ain't nothing better than a Saturday night Anything can happen under neon lights: Shave your face, comb your hair, new pair of underwear, Slicked back, pay check, fresh pack of cigarettes, Stick with me you'll see, new boots on my feet, Hair gunk, half drunk feeling like a hundred bucks Like a hundred bucks
I'm going downtown and I'm gonna try my luck And I ain't going down till the sun comes up: Barstool, game of pool, try your best to look cool, Jump back, shot of Jack, drug dealing in the back, Dance floor, one more, head's gonna be sore, Listen honey, here's some money, another round and keep them coming Just keep them coming
There's a pretty little waitress running off her feet She don't give her number to punks like me Short skirt, loves to flirt, so pretty it hurts, Shaking hips, red lips, only in it for the tips, Nice smile, drive you wild, I wish I wasn't so shy, I bet she's gotta boyfriend….I don't give a damn I don't give a damn
Hanging around with them good time friends of mine When I run outta money they run outta time Cross-eyed, I'll buy, just go up and say hi Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com New keg, rubber legs, baby don't you make me beg, Wanna dance? No chance, the band butchers Johnny Cash How come every time I'm drunk it seems all the ugly people leave? Where the hell do they go?
They're putting up the chairs I better call me a cab I must've forgotten to pay my tab Bouncer had a screw loose, covered in tattoos, Threw me out the front door said, don't come back no more My eyes are red, I'm half dead, I called him a meat head Can't walk, can't talk I hope my door ain't locked. I hope it ain't locked.
I couldn't find the bed, I couldn't miss the floor Woke up in the morning in all my clothes Crawled into bed, sore head, wishing that I was dead My mouth was like an ash-tray, slept through Sunday Dreaming about a waitress, wondering where my money went The phone was ringing off the hook, I gotta apologize to: The barman, the bouncer and the cab driver, The waitress, Jesus, I can't remember who else I called on the telephone at twenty-five to four I'm never gonna drink again….till next weekend Not until next weekend.
-
|