Guys, Girls, Guitars

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