I'M Your Bar Stool
I see we are open again.
It’s time to welcome old friends.
The homely, the lonely,
they who want only
to have somewhere to place their rear ends.
The people I bear are so glad.
The stories I hear are not bad.
Where I smell the beers
and I taste the tears
of the sad, and they who are driven mad.
So come in, come on, come over - come over and take a seat.
I am here to help you take your mind off your feet.
All day I sit here waiting for everyone who comes.
I am your barroom bar-stool, who welcomes all your bums.
Here comes a raving beauty, this is gunna be fun.
An hour glass figure; tight blue jeans - where do those legs run?
But why has she stopped walking?
Can’t she just stop talking!
Oh no, wait - this bloke’s fat and ugly and he weighs two tonne.
Barroom stools have feelings too.
They just don’t see a pretty face,
although they love to touch the cheeks
that are in some other place -
So come in, come on, come over - come over and take a seat.
I am here to help you take your mind off your feet.
All day I sit here waiting for everyone who comes.
I am your barroom bar-stool, who welcomes all your bums.
Now here comes the girl that I’m looking for.
An hour glass figure and parts to explore.
Her blonde hair’s amazing;
I feel like hell raising,
for bar stools like you also like to score.
The life of a bar-stool is a life worth living.
Supporting the souls who need forgiving.
I’m hoping each minute the perfect one comes,
‘cause I’m sick of tired of supporting old bums.
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