Lyrics

It's Friday night and my pizza's cold,
TV stinks, outside it blows.
Leather seats crack in the cold,
I blow in my hands, scrape off the snow.

If you want to tip a few,
Come on I'll take you there,
Where you can never find a chair.
Todd is plastered up there on the wall,
He sure looks good,
He's the keeper of the groove.

Standing, waiting at the bar,
Six people deep, packed in like meat.
Across the room a familiar face,
We raise up our glass, drink to some past.

Let's go and tip a few,
Come on I'll take you there,
All your friends are there.
Todd is plastered up there on the wall,
He sure looks good,
He's the keeper of the groove.

Summertime: Washington Street is booming,
The Bashers poundin' down the tent.
The Bud is overflowin'.
The band always plays too loud,
Sometimes it gets a little strange.

Let's go and tip a few,
Forget about your cares,
All your friends are there.
Big Dave and Carl at the bar,
The Captain's there,
They're asleep in their chairs.

Let's go and tip a few,
Forget about your cares,
Who needs a chair.