She was on that dive bar dance floor; shakin to that eighties mix 
She's trying to stay afloat in a fleet of relationships 
So when they play The Smiths 
She plays the mannequin or gets another drink 
Until she's drunk enough to dance again 
I'm standing in the corner while they're handling my order 
When I caught her trying to frolic in my field of vision 
She isn't my type, but that's alright 
I'd like to keep it all platonic cause I've got the premonition that 
She's never kissed a boy without a drink on his breath 
And she's never loved a man who didn't remind her of daddy 
She'll dance with dollar bottles singing "Living On A Prayer" 
If the bar can keep it's promise that an hour makes her happy 
She doesn't wear the locket that she got when she was six 
She wears the skirt a little lower on the weekdays 
She likes men that don't exist the morning after 
Cause a secret is a secret but a lover is a cheap date 
He was in the dive bar drinking on a champagne budget 
Cause he ain't nobody's husband when the buzz is in effect 
He tips the bartender single increments because 
She gives a little wink and then she shoves em in her dress 
You know the type 
Over forty, from Boston 
Only kicking game at women young enough to be his offspring 
She's trying to talk him into buying her a lager 
And pretend he don't remind her of her father 
He graduated with honors and got a job he hates 
Cause what the dreamers call a home he calls a trash heap 
He'll have another half a dozen gin and tonics 
If the bar can keep it's promise that an hour makes him happy 
He's been with women that never noticed his wedding ring 
He keeps a picture of his children in his briefcase 
They keep his wrists from the kisses of a razor 
And it's hard to find a savior in the city these days 
I was in the dive bar bathroom listening to last call 
I'm looking at a broken mirror like a glass ball 
Double vision was effecting the judgment 
But I wouldn't recognize that reflection if it wasn't 
Dude is buggin. Don't he know it's dangerous 
Assuming he knows a human he ain't even acquainted with? 
And maybe it's all peace as long as it ain't him 
But fed his own medicine, what would he say then? 
I bet he's never won a fist fight in his life 
And he's only charismatic when he's speaking on a back beat 
He'll catch a buzz and fall in love with a stranger 
If the bar can keep it's promise that an hour makes him happy 
Stereotypically skinny disheveled white boy 
Music elitist, guaranteed to hate the deejay 
He's trying to stress that he's so damn different 
I bet he didn't even notice he's the cliches he hates