She was on that dive bar dance floor; shakin to that eighties mix
She's trying to stay afloat in a fleet of relationships
So when they play The Smiths
She plays the mannequin or gets another drink
Until she's drunk enough to dance again
I'm standing in the corner while they're handling my order
When I caught her trying to frolic in my field of vision
She isn't my type, but that's alright
I'd like to keep it all platonic cause I've got the premonition that
She's never kissed a boy without a drink on his breath
And she's never loved a man who didn't remind her of daddy
She'll dance with dollar bottles singing "Living On A Prayer"
If the bar can keep it's promise that an hour makes her happy
She doesn't wear the locket that she got when she was six
She wears the skirt a little lower on the weekdays
She likes men that don't exist the morning after
Cause a secret is a secret but a lover is a cheap date

He was in the dive bar drinking on a champagne budget
Cause he ain't nobody's husband when the buzz is in effect
He tips the bartender single increments because
She gives a little wink and then she shoves em in her dress
You know the type
Over forty, from Boston
Only kicking game at women young enough to be his offspring
She's trying to talk him into buying her a lager
And pretend he don't remind her of her father
He graduated with honors and got a job he hates
Cause what the dreamers call a home he calls a trash heap
He'll have another half a dozen gin and tonics
If the bar can keep it's promise that an hour makes him happy
He's been with women that never noticed his wedding ring
He keeps a picture of his children in his briefcase
They keep his wrists from the kisses of a razor
And it's hard to find a savior in the city these days

I was in the dive bar bathroom listening to last call
I'm looking at a broken mirror like a glass ball
Double vision was effecting the judgment
But I wouldn't recognize that reflection if it wasn't
Dude is buggin. Don't he know it's dangerous
Assuming he knows a human he ain't even acquainted with?
And maybe it's all peace as long as it ain't him
But fed his own medicine, what would he say then?
I bet he's never won a fist fight in his life
And he's only charismatic when he's speaking on a back beat
He'll catch a buzz and fall in love with a stranger
If the bar can keep it's promise that an hour makes him happy
Stereotypically skinny disheveled white boy
Music elitist, guaranteed to hate the deejay
He's trying to stress that he's so damn different
I bet he didn't even notice he's the cliches he hates