They are not my friends.
They don’t even know my name.
They just call me bartender,
and ask me to fill them up again.
And the jukebox lies for dollars.
Everything is gonna be alright,
and tomorrow will be different,
but they’re drinking tonight.

And the merry-go-round keeps turning,
but, it’s no carousel, and isn’t it ironic
that a poet holds the keys to hell?
And the jukebox lies for dollars.
Everything is gonna be alright,
and in the morning I’ll be with you,
but they’re drinking tonight.

Pick me up after last call and we can
drive down to the seven-eleven and get
your coffee and my herbal tea.
And we can take it down to the docks
of Babylon and tell the seagulls all our dreams.
And I swear that loving you and making love to you
is all that comes between my and insanity.
Nine hours after midnight and you kiss me and
tell me that it’s time to go to sleep.

And LIPA just got their money,
compliments of Bill and Jim.
They won two-fifty on the ponies,
and they decided to cut me in.
‘Cause they say I take good care of them,
even when their wallets are light.
Stick this twenty in your pocket, man,
‘Cause we’re drinking tonight.

They are not my friends.
They don’t even know my name.
They just call me bartender, and
ask me to fill them up again.
And the jukebox lies for dollars.
Everything is gonna be alright.
And tomorrow will be different,
but they’re drinking tonight.