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At The Roadhouse

from Faulty Gems by Hank Stone

/

lyrics

You might say she’s 2/3 of a devil:
She lives at number 66,
Ubering with daddy’s master card
Usually a Honda, sometimes a Mercedes Benz
Eyes fixed on her Samsung
Photo apps with all the filter tricks
Using the roadhouse wi-fi for her instagram
Unfriending the unfriendliest of friends

At the roadhouse on the turnpike
At the roadhouse on the turnpike
It ain’t quite heaven or hell
Just a place the devil seems to like

Here comes her future boyfriend or whatever
Mini Cooper crammed with Sam Ash gear
He bristles when he’s called a Clapton-wannabe
There’s 30 years of chops behind that axe
Now if this was a movie they would meet cute
She would whack him with a pool cue, sorry dear
She’d help him from the floor, both seeing birdies
Then nurse his tender bruises with ice packs

At the roadhouse on the turnpike
At the roadhouse on the turnpike
It ain’t quite heaven or hell
Just a place the devil seems to like

Who says generations cannot get together?
Bartenders see it all the time
You’ll never write the best-seller story of your life
If you stay at home playing with yourself
He will surely give her tips at 8-ball
She’ll inspire his rhythm and his rhyme
The devil’s in the details, in the bottom of a bottle
And no-one here is paying for top shelf

At the roadhouse on the turnpike
At the roadhouse on the turnpike
It ain’t quite heaven or hell
Just a place the devil seems to like

credits

from Faulty Gems, released January 28, 2023

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Hank Stone New York

Most excellent songwright. Interpretive singer and guitarist. Harmonica hobbyist.

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