Pull up a chair, come sit next to me,
the neon advertisements shining pleasantly
One smoky room one age-old tune the jukebox always plays,
Though it’s not much, it’s what we’ve got;
it keeps a smile on my face.

These seven televisions all play different things,
the noise a mixture of what life in progress brings, One empty glass, another drink, another smoke to save your soul,
A precious moment when it all makes sense, it all makes sense ya know

We're so young, the future seems so far,
The past reminds us of the dreams kept in our hearts,
We won the battle, but will we win the war?
All the while we are singing songs in the key of whatever.
Pull up a chair, lets wind down and relax,
remember all the things we used to do and laugh, One smoky room one age-old tune the jukebox always plays,
Though it’s not much, it’s filled with love;
it keeps a smile on my face.

The things we say, we someday will regret,
the things we do tonight we’ll most likely forget
One empty glass, another drink, another smoke to save your soul,
A precious moment when it all makes sense, it all makes sense ya know

Open you eyes, ready your soul, open your heart to the love.