Three floors

full of boys in their suit coats and ties.

Brass doors

you gotta wait like half the night to get by.

Staff tees,

everyone behind the bar looks the same.

Twelve TVs,

so you can watch a freakin’ dozen ball games.

Hot pink,

everything’s covered in neon.

Gold sink,

matching toilet that’s too pretty to pee on.

It’s all shine.

The floor is covered with glitter.

Sure, that’s fine,

if you want a dish of mints in the shitter…

Give me standing room only, and twenty-four tables.

Give me shakin’ my ass off for as long as I’m able.

Give me top-shelf gossip and bottom-shelf liquor,

in bottles rockin’ faded, worn out sell-by stickers.

Give me fools all fallin’ off their stools and fallin’ off the wagon.

Give me thirty-year-old old speakers thumpin’ Ranko and the Dragons.

‘Cause it’s hard to let your hair down when the bar looks like the mall,

so you’ll find me raisin’ hell here in my hole in the wall!

Packed all night,

parking lot full of shiny brand-new Ferraris.

Wound so tight,

it’s like they’re all two hours deep in shibari.

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When I drink,

I wanna party with the boys who go hard,

but they think

they can just pick a girl and charge her to their card!

I’m not fond

of watchin’ rich guys’ daughters gettin’ all spastic;

trust fund blondes

with their purses and their noses full of plastic.

It’s high class.

It’s just the crème de la crème.

But I’ll pass -

who wants to party with them?

Give me blacked-out front windows the haters can’t see through.

A dirty dance floor that you can’t help but stick your feet to.

Give me two working burners and an ice machine that’s busted,

jukebox full of oldies that were new the last time it was dusted.

Give me threadbare red benches that are turning brown with age,

and people makin’ out within an arm’s length of the stage!

Rather play a little dive bar than a concert hall,

so come find me up on stage here in my hole in the wall!

Give me workin’ guys who show up on payday to drink the hurt off,

and girls a half a shot away from tearin’ that tee shirt off!

Give me posters on the wall for cheap American beer.

Give me laminated menus ain’t been changed in a year.

All I need’s a couple spotlights and a headset microphone.

You rich kids might call it hell, but girls like me can call it home!

It’s a rowdy, dirty, funky, flirty free-for-all,

where you’ll find me and my girls here in my hole in the wall!