They make cell phones, to call your friends
To pick you up at a half past ten
Half ton trucks to get you on down the road
And they make Texaco's, for stopping at
To get yourself a brand-new pack
Of them cigarettes, she hated that you smoked
And they make little bars on the edge of town
For getting lost for getting found
And hanging around for more than a round or two (more than a round or two)
And they make eight ball racks, jukebox songs
So you can act, like you've moved on
Neon signs to shine that neon blue (that neon blue)
It just hit me
That they make whiskey
To get me over you
♪
♪
And they make diamond rings for getting tossed
And front porch steps for stepping off
And hatchback Hondas to hold an old suitcase
And they make taillights to disappear
While you're standing there in the rearview mirror
With a memory that time just can't erase
And they make little bars on the edge of town
For getting lost, for getting found
And hanging around for more than a round or two (more than a round or two)
And they make eight ball racks, jukebox songs
So you can act, like you've moved on
Neon signs to shine that neon blue (that neon blue)
It just hit me
That they make whiskey
To get me over you
♪
And they make little bars on the edge of town
For getting lost, for getting found
And hanging around for more than a round or two (more than a round or two)
And they make eight ball racks, jukebox songs
So you can act, like you've moved on
Neon signs to shine that neon blue (that neon blue)
It just hit me
They make whiskey
To get me over you
'Cause I ain't over you