| Looking back I see a million little things that wrecked us
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| She never liked my pickup truck parked up beside her Lexus
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| And I never wore them khakis like she asked me
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| Just trashy old blue jeans, old Skoal ring
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| She packed up her Chanel, said 'go to hell', taught me a lesson
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| And now as far as she’s concerned
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| I’m in a deep and dark depression
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| But it’s happy hour, drinking double shooters
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| Buying whiskey sours for a pack of cougars
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| I know I should be sadder but it all seems silly
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| 'Cause my good buddy Waylon hooked me up with some willie
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| Girl, I know a breakup ain’t supposed to be fun
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| But I’m here at happy hour, happy ours is done, yeah
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| And I know she’ll hear about my 'paint the town red' gallivanting
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| And she’ll think I thought of her curves when I found that gal to dance with
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| And she’ll tell her friends I’m faking, my hearts breaking, time will take away
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| my grin
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| But not when every bar I stumble in
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| Is happy hour, drinking double shooters
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| Buying whiskey sours for a pack of cougars
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| I know I should be sadder but it all seems silly
|
| 'Cause my good buddy went and hooked me up with some willie
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| Girl, I know a breakup ain’t supposed to be fun
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| But I’m here at happy hour, happy ours is done
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| Well it’ll make her feel much better if she thinks my life is hell
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| Tell her ever since she left me it’s like time is standing still
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| And it’s happy hour, drinking double shooters
|
| Buying whiskey sours for a pack of cougars
|
| I know I should be sadder but it all seems silly
|
| 'Cause my good buddy went and hooked me up with some willie
|
| Girl, I know a breakup ain’t supposed to be fun
|
| But I’m here at happy hour, happy ours is done
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| Yeah, I’m here at happy hour, happy ours is done, yeah |