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...