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Another Night at Lamppost Lounge
Trevor Sensor
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I think of a Saturday night in winter
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Another evening at Lamppost Lounge
Where I always see my good friend Steve
A sad townie that I'm pretty sure is jobless
Looks like he might have been dropped
On his head one too many times as a kid
I see Michael
Getting high in the back corner in the smoking room over there
He's an amateur figure skater that dances on the ponds alone
All angelic and lonesome on Friday afternoons
I wave and bless him
And all my friends are downstairs in bottles waiting for me
I stumble down and talk philosophy with the bartender there
And we agree that only Socrates was right
And maybe he was actually Christ and the other guy
The other guy was just someone's name we got wrong
A case of mistaken identity
The rooms there are always spinning
They spin more as the night goes on
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And I swear this one time some girl followed me into the pisser
Asking for some sexual favor I didn't understand
Something about putting somewhere into something or I don't know
I think I responded with a "Who the hell are you?"
And she left and waltzed out like some Virgin Mary
But there's none of that tonight
As the youth are all upstairs dancing
And I'm down at the basement bar
Shamefully weeping into my White Russian
Hoping that if I drink enough of them
I'll transform into the holy Jeff Bridges
All bearded and blessed
Don't Stop Believing comes on and everyone erupts into the first line
Singing along together
And they soon forget the rest of the lines though
Only to join back in later when the final chorus erupts
Acting like they've been singing along, you know, the whole time
And that's followed by some T-Pain or Bieber or, you know
What can you do for small town Iowa
But weep for them because they don't know any better
I do the same for America all the time
There's a girl I'll carry home tonight but won't sleep with
Because she's dating someone
And my job anyways is to be alone and moan for man
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It was foretold to me in some drunken stupor I was in
As a vision of snow angels and ice swallowed me
Told me to go moan for man and for
The starved knights of Saturday stars
You know, the lonesome bums who can't find their way home
So they go to Troy's Lamppost Lounge
To find themselves at the bottom of
Another shot glass or pitcher of beer
I wonder if I could moan for man
I moan for Indiana and California
But they've taken women from me and
I'm stranded out here in middle America
All lonesome
You know, waving a cheap bottle of vodka in the air
Telling everybody how everybody's gonna die
Or telling some girl how beautiful she is
And how I'd take her out to dinner
If I wasn't drunk and had some money
I offer my place to them after the bar's closed to talk about virtue
But some say no and others want more out of me than I can give them
So another cold night I walk home alone
Among the snow and ice as a Saturday star myself
All stars dispersing into the night and dying in their beds
Praying, I suppose
Praying that, uh, Sunday never comes
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