Friday Night at the Drive-In Bingo

In a tiny tiny southern Swedish country town
 Two acres of field and a gas station
 Riding on my moped, looking for fun
 Staring into the blood red sun
 On 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 into the drive-in bingo
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 Why do the people in the country wanna look like the people in the city?
 When the people in the city aren't the slightest pretty?
 I want the people in the country to wear flannel shirts
 And saggy jeans all covered in dirt
 I want the people in the country to be open and kind
 But most times I've met those with a narrow mind
 With a big black dog to bite your behind
 If they ever find out you're not one of their kind
 All these thoughts as I open up a zingo
 Friday night at the drive-in bingo
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 So this is what they do out here for fun?
 They play bingo and let their engines run?
 Tonight's 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 our savings and a bottle of wine
 To Friday night's reversal of time
 This little south-west village shouldn't cost that much
 Maybe a handful of silver or a hundred bucks
 We could have wild wild parties in that big old lodge
 And the windmill's perfect for movies and such
 We could fake our deaths to get insurance money
 And take on hippie names, I'd be Snowphish, you'd 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 ostrich 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