Guitar, vocal-Chris
Lyrics
Mr. Chris' Unhappy Happy Hour
My gig was nowhere
I finally stood on a chair
I was tired of this roomful of backs
Then, some guy in the rear
In a voice loud and clear
Screams out, "This guy is really a hack
"I oughta know,
I worked the record department
At Walmart for years.
This guy can't sing
His guitar picking stinks
This jerk really hurts my ears."
(Chorus)
And it was one more night
Of trying to feel bright
For people that feel so dull.
The best head in the place
Is on the beer, I'd say.
The air conditioner is colder than Hell.
Why every guy in this room
Thinks that romance will bloom
In this dark old dingy bar.
But this one guy was realistic
He knows the best he can hope for
Is maybe the waitress will bend over too
far.
A lady walks up to me
She says, "Excuse me please,
But when do you take your break?
You see my boyfriend just quit his job
And he moved into my apartment
And he wants to celebrate.
He wants to hear the juke box play
And he says nobody's paying any attention
To you anyway.
It's not like you're Bob Dylan
So, he wonders if you're willin'
To just sit down and let the juke box play."
(Chorus)
And it was one more night
Of trying to feel bright
For people that feel so dull.
The best head in the place
Is on the beer, I'd say.
The air conditioner's colder than Hell.
Every guy in this room
Thinks that romance will bloom
In this dark old dingy bar.
But this one guy is realistic
He thought the best he can hope for
Was maybe the waitress might bend over too far.
So I take a little break
I need to stretch my legs
And this drunk stumbles up through the bar.
He says, "My cousin's a musician
'Course he's better than you
Cause he can really play the guitar.
He auditioned once
Back in '61
With Bill Haley and the Comets."
He points out all my mistakes
Then, this guy starts to shake
And he drops down to his knees and vomits,
All over the floor...
(Chorus)
And it was one more night
Of trying to feel bright
For these people who feel so dull.
The best head in the place
Is on the beer, I'd say.
The air conditioner's colder than Hell.
Every guy in this room
Thinks that romance will bloom
In this dark old dingy bar.
But this one guy was realistic
He thought the best he could hope for
Was that waitress might bend over too far.
The owner says, "Mr. Chris
I ain't never seen nothing like this
And I never want to see it again.
You must not have any talent
Cause we didn't sell gallons
Of whiskey, beer, and gin.
I want you and that guitar
Out of my bar
Making tracks for the rural route.
I want you gone so fast
That door don't hit your ass
On your way out."
(Chorus)
And it was one more night
Of trying to feel bright
For people that feel so dull.
The best head in this place
Is on the beer, I'd say.
The air conditioner's colder than Hell.
Every guy in this room thinks
That romance will bloom
In this dark ole dingy bar.
But this one guy was realistic
He thought the best he could hope for
Was that waitress might bend over too far.
Take me home country roads,
To the green, green grass of home.