| In the corner of the bar there stands a jukebox
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| With the best of country music, old and new
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| You can hear your five selections for a quarter
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| And somebody else’s songs when yours are through
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| I got good Kentucky whiskey on the counter
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| And my friends around to help me ease the pain
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| Till some button-pushing cowboy plays that love song
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| And here I am just missing you again
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| Please, Mr., please, don’t play B-17
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| It was our song, it was his song, but it’s over
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| Please, Mr., please, if you know what I mean
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| I don’t ever wanna hear that song again
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| If I had a dime for every time I held you
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| Though you’re far away, you’ve been so close to me
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| I could swear I’d be the richest girl in Nashville
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| Maybe even in the state of Tennessee
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| But I guess I’d better get myself together
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| 'Cause when you left, you didn’t leave too much behind
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| Just a note that said «I'm sorry» by your picture
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| And a song that’s weighing heavy on my mind
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| Please, Mr., please, don’t play B-17
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| It was our song, it was his song, but it’s over
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| Please, Mr., please, if you know what I mean
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| I don’t ever wanna hear that song again |