I'M Your Bar Stool

I see we are open again. It’s time to welcome old friends. The homely, the lonely, they who want only to have somewhere to place their rear ends. The people I bear are so glad. The stories I hear are not bad. Where I smell the beers and I taste the tears of the sad, and they who are driven mad. So come in, come on, come over - come over and take a seat. I am here to help you take your mind off your feet. All day I sit here waiting for everyone who comes. I am your barroom bar-stool, who welcomes all your bums. Here comes a raving beauty, this is gunna be fun. An hour glass figure; tight blue jeans - where do those legs run? But why has she stopped walking? Can’t she just stop talking! Oh no, wait - this bloke’s fat and ugly and he weighs two tonne. Barroom stools have feelings too. They just don’t see a pretty face, although they love to touch the cheeks that are in some other place - So come in, come on, come over - come over and take a seat. I am here to help you take your mind off your feet. All day I sit here waiting for everyone who comes. I am your barroom bar-stool, who welcomes all your bums. Now here comes the girl that I’m looking for. An hour glass figure and parts to explore. Her blonde hair’s amazing; I feel like hell raising, for bar stools like you also like to score. The life of a bar-stool is a life worth living. Supporting the souls who need forgiving. I’m hoping each minute the perfect one comes, ‘cause I’m sick of tired of supporting old bums.