The Room Over the Bar

The room over the bar has a funny kind of smell
Your feet stick to the carpet, what it is you can not tell
The curtains, you can’t close ‘em and the toilet won’t stop running
The lights they kind of flicker — there’s a banging in the plumbing
The room over the bar — number 213
Not particularly large, not particularly clean
It’s supposed to be a king bed but it’s not even a queen
On a nightstand are some dusty & outdated magazines
The room over the bar is the one without a view
You can’t open up the window & there’s no light coming through
There’s a great big concrete wall you can look at if you want
The rooms that have a view — they’re all around the front
The room over the bar is the one they give musicians
It’s the one they haven’t fixed up ‘cause it’s only for musicians
There’s at least a couple burn marks on almost everything
You lie down in the bed & you feel each one of the springs
The room over the bar you’ll find hairs on the sheet
A broken down remote, and you can’t turn off the heat
A towel small as a washcloth and a shower that just dribbles
The tv with 3 channels on the ceiling, on a swivel
The room over the bar — you hear everything below
All sorts of filthy language — must be where all the cussers go
Some words I never heard before — and some I haven’t heard since
I’ve used a few myself — but one or two of ‘em made me wince
The room over the bar has a guitar player below
He’s got people singing — all the songs that people know
The sound is all distorted & it’s turned up way too loud
There’s some really awful singing going on there in the crowd
The room over the bar — it’s never gonna close
You’ve got to get up early — but that’s just the way it goes
They quit serving at midnight but the last one leaves at four
And then you toss & turn for a couple hours more