Little Bones

It gets so sticky down here Better butter your cue finger up It's the start of another new year Better call the newspaper up Two-fifty for a highball And a buck and a half for a beer Happy hour, happy hour Happy hour is here The long days of Shockley are gone So is football Kennedy-style Famous last words taken all wrong Wind up on the very same pile Two-fifty for a decade And a buck and a half for a year Happy hour, happy hour Happy hour is here I can cry, beg and whine To every rebel I find Just to give me a line I could use to describe They'd say, "Baby, eat this chicken slow It's full of all them little bones Baby, eat this chicken slow It's full of all them little bones" So regal and decadent here Coffin-cheaters dance on their graves Music all it's delicate fear Is the only thing that don't change Two-fifty for an eyeball And a buck and a half for an ear Happy hour, happy hour Happy hour is here Well, nothing's dead down here, it's just a little tired Nothing is dead down here, it's just a little tired Well, nothing's dead down here, it's just a little tired Nothing is dead down here, it's just a little tired Oh baby, eat this chicken slow It's full of all them little bones Baby, eat this chicken slow It's full of all them little bones Little bones Full of all them little bones Aah, little bones