Lyrics

The Somke Laden Room

If you woulda told me, at age fifty-two,

I?d be tendin? the bar at the local soloon,

Watchin? drunks tellin? old jokes and swappin? their lies,

While restin?their hands on drunk women?s thighs.

I?da said you was crazy, I got better plans,

Soon as I form my near-perfect band.

But life slid on by me, and somehow I knew
I
?d be wasting my youth in this smoke laden room.


They all make it in her by four forty-five,

Just in from work and just barely alive.

They don?t even ask me to get ?em a beer.

I know what they drink and that?s why the come here.

Then they sit by the hour on their barstools,

Talkin? too loud and actin? a fool.

Prayin that last coll don?t come too soon.

Like they can?t bear to leave this smoke laden room.


It?s closing time finally, I can turn out the lights

On dreams that lie fallow in a meaningless night.

Sometimes this old bar feels like my tomb.

I?m fiirmly enshrouded in a smoke laden room.

But the wwek?s almost over, and my only plan

Is to play once a month in a hillbilly band.

And for just a few hours I can let my soul bloom

And shake of the ghost of that smoke laden room.


Lord, don?t let me die in that smoke laden room.