(welch/rostill)
in the corner of the bar there stands a jukebox
with the best of country music, old and new
you can hear your five selections for a quarter
and somebody else's songs when yours are through
i got good kentucky whiskey on the counter
and my friends around to help me ease the pain
'til some button-pushing cowboy plays that love song
and here i am just missing you again
please, mr., please, don't play b-17
it was our song, it was his song, but it's over
please, mr., please, if you know what i mean
i don't ever wanna hear that song again
if i had a dime for every time i held you
though you're far away, you've been so close to me
i could swear i'd be the richest girl in nashville
maybe even in the state of tennessee
but i guess i'd better get myself together
'cause when you left, you didn't leave too much behind
just a note that said "i'm sorry" by your picture
and a song that's weighing heavy on my mind
please, mr., please, don't play b-17
it was our song, it was his song, but it's over
please, mr., please, if you know what i mean
i don't ever wanna hear that song again |