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Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraThe Great American Bar Scene
I lost my money to some dirty old bookieWay up in Philly, he was a bad manBut you can't bet your life on the tableWhen you've got yourself a bad handSo I went and got my good friend MickeyAnd we made ourselves a bold standWound up bleedin' on the bar floorAnd we don't bet on ball no moreWhere the bets are tough and bartenders meanThe great American bar sceneMy brother from Tulsa has got himself a warrantBut he's on the run up in CheyenneThey hemmed me up and asked me some questionsBut I ain't no damn rat, manPut cuffs on so tight he started bleedin'From his wrist down through to his right handPut "State Trooper" on the record machineThe great American bar sceneNeon lightin', wooden floors lightlyAs her feet quietly slide acrossTough boys have all came and wentShe's a Heaven-sent and I'm at a lossSo if you've got the time, I've got the quarterAnd a two-steppin' song called "Hey Porter"Why's love always feel like a fever dreamIn the great American bar scene?My heart stays hurtin' and hands stay workin'And I'm still just a sinnin' manI've tried like hell to keep my healthTreat others well and understandWhy life's so unfair, uncertain and meanIn the great American bar scene
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