There's a guy singing in the edge of the room   Making sounds through a face like a prune   He's got them fancy checkered pants   And a chip in his tooth, oh no, yeah, yeah, yeah      Suffocating from patchouli and smoke   Here's the fifty-first song that he wrote   About the girl who split fifty weeks ago   Oh no, yeah, yeah, yeah      And there's a weight sitting real heavy   Down there on his shoulder   The patented moves growing colder   The seventh chord just keeps getting older      Oh, my soul, just hit me if I get on a roll   But this all sounded so good   In the bedroom cold oh yeah, yeah, yeah      But its only a 2 AM tune   With a bridge lifted from "My aim is true"   From the set list drink to the practice room   Oh yeah, yeah, yeah      But there's a weight sitting real heavy   Down there on his shoulder   The patented moves growing colder   The seventh chord just keeps getting older      And he knows just as sure   As this microphone stinks   There's a change coming through   And he ain't going home alone tonight      And there's a weight sitting real heavy   Down there on his shoulder   The seventh chord just keeps getting older   Is it me or is the room getting colder      Oh, we're going down, but don't it sound sweet   Feel the dust building up at our feet   The seventh chord just keeps getting older