In a tiny, tiny, southern swedish country town Two achres of field and a gas-station Riding on my moped looking for fun Staring in to the blood-red sun
Oh the country road is a boulevard With neon lights and night open bars In my jacket a pack of playing cards Just jacks, jokers and the queen of hearts
My heart is beating Beating like Ringo As I pull in to the drive-in bingo
Why do the people in the country Want to look like the people in the city When the people in the city Aren't just quite as pretty I want the people in the country To wear flanell-shirts and saggy jeans All covered in dirt
I want the people in the country to be open and kind But most times they met us with a narrow mind With the big black dog to bite your behind If they ever find out you're not one of their kind
All these thoughts As I opened up a Zingo Friday night at the drive-in bingo
So this is what they do out here for fun They play bingo and let their engines run Tonights jackpot is a pig, hey that's criminal G 42 ooh I'm going diagonal
I'm gonna gather up a few of my friends As many fits into an army tent Just bring your savings and a bottle of wine To friday nights reversal of time
This little southwest village Shouldn't cost that much Maybe a handful of silver or a 100 bucks We could have wild, wild partys in that big old lodge And windmill's perfect for movies and such
We could fake our deaths to get insurance money Take on hippie names, I'll be Snowface you'll be Sunny We could start a little farm with little white bunnies Just cause watching them copulate is very funny There's a cow and an ostridge - just waiting for you A glass of apple cider - just waiting for you The smell of 1952 - just waiting for you And all I'm doing here is just waiting for you
A daydream, I'm caught up in limbo Friday night at the drive-in bingo
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Copy to Clipboard: In a tiny, tiny, southern swedish country town Two achres of field and a gas-station Riding on my moped looking for fun Staring in to the blood-red sun
Oh the country road is a boulevard With neon lights and night open bars In my jacket a pack of playing cards Just jacks, jokers and the queen of hearts
My heart is beating Beating like Ringo As I pull in to the drive-in bingo
Why do the people in the country Want to look like the people in the city When the people in the city Aren't just quite as pretty I want the people in the country To wear flanell-shirts and saggy jeans All covered in dirt
I want the people in the country to be open and kind But most times they met us with a narrow mind With the big black dog to bite your behind If they ever find out you're not one of their kind
All these thoughts As I opened up a Zingo Friday night at the drive-in bingo
So this is what they do out here for fun They play bingo and let their engines run Tonights jackpot is a pig, hey that's criminal G 42 ooh I'm going diagonal
I'm gonna gather up a few of my friends As many fits into an army tent Just bring your savings and a bottle of wine To friday nights reversal of time
This little southwest village Shouldn't cost that much Maybe a handful of silver or a 100 bucks We could have wild, wild partys in that big old lodge And windmill's perfect for movies and such
We could fake our deaths to get insurance money Take on hippie names, I'll be Snowface you'll be Sunny We could start a little farm with little white bunnies Just cause watching them copulate is very funny There's a cow and an ostridge - just waiting for you A glass of apple cider - just waiting for you The smell of 1952 - just waiting for you And all I'm doing here is just waiting for you
A daydream, I'm caught up in limbo Friday night at the drive-in bingo
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