After three good years together We had our first big fight So she went to her mother's And I went for a drive Down an old familiar highway Just a few miles out of town To that run down, one room tavern That used to be my stompin' ground Well I pulled in the driveway You know it all still looked the same And I couldn't wait to down a few And hear that jukebox strain But as I walked in through the doorway Well there stood some kind of matra'd Well he looked me up and he looked me Down and said can I help you please And I said what'd you do with those swingin' doors And where's the sawdust on the floor Why's everybody wearin' suits and ties From where I stand I can't believe my eyes And who's idea was it to hang these ferns This brand new bar don't have a single burn I guess I'm somewhere that I don't belong I need a jukebox with a country song Well I looked back to the corner Where the jukebox once stood proud Some clown was playing records Too fast, too long and too loud And it must have been a big mistake To try and speak my mind So as they were asking me to leave I cried out one more time What'd you do with those swingin' doors And where's the sawdust on the floor Why's everybody wearin' suits and ties From where I stand I can't believe my eyes And who's idea was it to hang these ferns This brand new bar don't have a single burn I guess I'm somewhere that I don't belong I need a jukebox with a country song I guess I don't belong Without a jukebox And a country song...