Everybody Knows the Names

Songtekst

[Verse 1] At the Bent Nail, the taps run slow, Old beer signs buzz and the floorboards bow. Everybody smiles like a practiced trick, Then trades sharp looks when the jukebox clicks. Here come the regulars, claiming their throne, With faded ink and a tab of their own. They scan the room for somebody to buy, Then toast like friends with a knife in the eye. [Pre-Chorus] We say, “How’ve you been?” We say, “Good to see you.” Then turn to our pals and say what we mean to. [Chorus] At the moldy bar, everybody plays nice, Passes a grin, then rolls the dice. Troy wants a Bud Light, a chase, and a fight, Amanda says, “Fuck you,” and she’s probably right. Raise up a glass to the mess we became— Nobody likes anybody, but we all know the names! [Verse 2] Troy’s got a barstool with his shape worn in, Cold can in hand and a sour old grin. He talks big game, leaves a trail of bad news, Still chasing every woman who says, “I refuse.” Amanda’s done with his sad little show, She sets down her drink and lets everybody know: “Keep your cheap charm and your backseat excuse. I’m not your last call, so cut me loose.” [Pre-Chorus] He says, “Just one more.” She says, “That’s enough.” The whole room nods, then pretends it’s all love. [Chorus] At the moldy bar, everybody plays nice, Passes a grin, then rolls the dice. Troy wants a Bud Light, a chase, and a fight, Amanda says, “Fuck you,” and she’s probably right. Raise up a glass to the mess we became— Nobody likes anybody, but we all know the names! [Bridge] No saints at the counter, no villains in white, Just people nursing grudges till closing time. Troy, take your can and go sleep it off; Amanda’s walking out, and she’s had enough. [Final Chorus] At the moldy bar, everybody plays nice, Passes a grin, then rolls the dice. Troy wants a Bud Light, a chase, and a fight, Amanda says, “Fuck you,” and she’s probably right. Raise up a glass to the mess we became— Nobody likes anybody, but we all know the names! [Outro] “How’ve you been?” “Good to see you.” “Fuck you, Troy.” Last call. We mean it.