A Man Walks Into a Bar Songtext
von Chumbawamba
A Man Walks Into a Bar Songtext
A man walks into a bar, he says, "Give me a Bacardi and Coke!"
The Back o′ Beyond Repair welcomes the broken and the broke
Blather hitches a ride on the back of second-hand smoke
And the man, well, he'll be the punchline in someone else′s joke
I'll beat this drink, it's a habit I′ll kick
Please help me now, I′m gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don't want any more
A man walks into a think-tank full of hooch and future sales
Mixing wish lists with extention plans re: Guantanamo jail
Smell the solid beech, and a whiff of cannot fail
And a gilt-tray chock with goblets dripping cut-throat cocktails
And they drink a toast to Florida and all its air-conditioned hum
And they damn the health of Cuba and they damn its bona fide rum
He sucks a kalamata olive, spits out the stone
And he mimics crushing people between forefinger and thumb
I′ll beat this drink, it's a habit I′ll kick
Please help me now, I'm gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don′t want any more
The first man wakes up in the same bar, but it's different, as in a dream
In fact it's someone else′s dream, clean sheets and new regime
Fidel burns as Nero roams, "Give the bar a zip code!"
"See you..." "Si... C.U.", and it′s one more for the road
I'll beat this drink, it′s a habit I'll kick
Please help me now, I′m gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don't want any more
The Back o′ Beyond Repair welcomes the broken and the broke
Blather hitches a ride on the back of second-hand smoke
And the man, well, he'll be the punchline in someone else′s joke
I'll beat this drink, it's a habit I′ll kick
Please help me now, I′m gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don't want any more
A man walks into a think-tank full of hooch and future sales
Mixing wish lists with extention plans re: Guantanamo jail
Smell the solid beech, and a whiff of cannot fail
And a gilt-tray chock with goblets dripping cut-throat cocktails
And they drink a toast to Florida and all its air-conditioned hum
And they damn the health of Cuba and they damn its bona fide rum
He sucks a kalamata olive, spits out the stone
And he mimics crushing people between forefinger and thumb
I′ll beat this drink, it's a habit I′ll kick
Please help me now, I'm gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don′t want any more
The first man wakes up in the same bar, but it's different, as in a dream
In fact it's someone else′s dream, clean sheets and new regime
Fidel burns as Nero roams, "Give the bar a zip code!"
"See you..." "Si... C.U.", and it′s one more for the road
I'll beat this drink, it′s a habit I'll kick
Please help me now, I′m gonna be sick
Something hit me, I wound up on the floor
Damn this Bacardi, I don't want any more
Writer(s): Judith Abbott, Neil Ferguson, Louise Watts, Allan Whalley, Duncan Bruce, Darren Hamer, Nigel Hunter, Alice Nutter Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com