| Nobody writes goodbye notes
|
| And takes off to God-only-knows
|
| On trains anymore
|
| And to tell you the truth
|
| I don’t really see much use
|
| In walking the floor
|
| Old songs make it sound so cool
|
| To be a half-drunk, heartbroke fool
|
| When that fool is you, it’s not
|
| And the only way this heartache
|
| Is like an old Hank Williams song
|
| Is the lonely, the lonesome and the gone
|
| There’s a place down by the mall
|
| But it ain’t what you’d call a honky-tonk
|
| They got a new jukebox
|
| Filled up with country rock
|
| 'Cause that’s what folks want
|
| I don’t know why no one sings about
|
| Drowning in pitchers and half-priced wings
|
| And trying to wish back everything they’ve lost
|
| Yeah, the only way this heartache
|
| Is like an old Hank Williams song
|
| Is the lonely, the lonesome and the gone
|
| He never sang about watching a Camry pulling out
|
| Of a crowded apartment parking lot
|
| But I guess in some way every heartache
|
| Is like an old Hank Williams song
|
| There’s the lonely, the lonesome and the gone
|
| There’s the lonely, the lonesome and the gone |