Lyrics:

1991
Writer(s): G. Nelson, R. Samoset

After three good years together
We had our first big fight
So she went to her mother's
And I went for a drive

Down an old familiar highway
Just a few miles out of town
To that run down, one room tavern
That used to be my stompin' ground

Well I pulled in the driveway
You know it all still looked the same
And I couldn't wait to down a few
And hear that jukebox strain

But as I walked in through the doorway
Well there stood some kind of matra'd
Well he looked me up and he looked me
Down and said can I help you please

And I said what'd you do with those swingin' doors
And where's the sawdust on the floor
Why's everybody wearin' suits and ties
From where I stand I can't believe my eyes

And who's idea was it to hang these ferns
This brand new bar don't have a single burn
I guess I'm somewhere that I don't belong
I need a jukebox with a country song

Well I looked back to the corner
Where the jukebox once stood proud
Some clown was playing records
Too fast, too long and too loud

And it must have been a big mistake
To try and speak my mind
So as they were asking me to leave
I cried out one more time

What'd you do with those swingin' doors
And where's the sawdust on the floor
Why's everybody wearin' suits and ties
From where I stand I can't believe my eyes

And who's idea was it to hang these ferns
This brand new bar don't have a single burn
I guess I'm somewhere that I don't belong
I need a jukebox with a country song

I guess I don't belong
Without a jukebox
And a country song.