| Well I popped the top on a cold one
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| And started thinkin' about my life
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| The only thing I know for sure
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| Is that I’m workin' all day and night
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| Well the boss gets five days and I get two
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| And even that ain’t enough for him
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| The only way God could even things up
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| Was give the workin' man a weekend
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| So two out of seven ain’t bad
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| I got forty eight hours to try to forget the last five days I’ve had
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| Yea the bars and the beers and the ladies in high heels
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| All go by so fast, but hell two out of seven ain’t bad
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| Nobody said that life was fair
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| Well I’ll drink to that
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| And I wonder who dreamed the work week up
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| And how they figured out the math
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| It seems like if there’s one for me
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| There oughta be just one for you
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| But somehow out of seven days
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| I only wound up with two
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| But two out of seven ain’t bad
|
| I got forty eight hours to try to forget the last five days I’ve had
|
| Yea the bars and the beers and the ladies in high heels
|
| All go by so fast, but hell two out of seven ain’t bad
|
| Yea somehow out of seven days
|
| We only wound up with two
|
| But two out of seven ain’t bad
|
| I got forty eight hours to try to forget the last five days I’ve had
|
| Yea the bars and the beers and the ladies in high heels
|
| All go by so fast, but hell two out of seven ain’t bad
|
| Yea two out of seven, no it ain’t bad |