Lyrics

Smokey Joe’s (2019 Version)

It’s 4am on sunset, the traffic’s movin’ slow ,
The purple neon flashes: “Come on in, we never close.”
Outside, the line is forming, the wannabees all flirt,
They buzz around the doorman, liftin’ up their skirts,
Inside, the royalty recline in the afterglow,
The congregation’s gatherin’ downstairs at Smokey Joe’s

There’s Mr. Clark and Johnny and everyone can tell
Those smiles that they’re wearin’ are illegal as hell,
They’re slicing red tomatoes, the home grown variety,
And laughin’ like those good ol’ boys can laugh in Tennessee,
And Guy, he’s drinkin’ whiskey, the single malt, you know,
The kind you can’t find anywhere ‘cept down at Smokey Joe’s

Bobby’s quite the joker, you cannot pin him down,
Between those devil’s horns he sports a dark and thorny crown,
He whispers to Johanna "Let’s get out while we can,
Before they turn us all into statues made of sand,
Yeah, come on, lets go fishin’, I brought my line and pole,
There’s always something bitin’ downstairs at Smokey Joe’s."

Lenny 's old and horny in his holy way
Perfectly imperfect, he removes his clothes to pray,
And everybody’s bowin' to gods unseen gods again,
For every drop of golden ink that passed down through their pens,
Yeah, thanks for "what’s it to ya" and “Everybody Knows”,
They’re singing hallelujah downstairs at Smokey Joe’s.

Tom parks his ol’ ’55, slips on his hat and coat,
He takes another swig o’ wine, he takes another toke,
There’s paparazzi everywhere, but he walks in unseen
‘Cause they’re busy interviewin' the homecoming queen
Her lips are fat as oysters but the doorman says "No,
That ain't the look they're looking for downstairs at Smokey Joe’s.

I know its unappealing to see me on my knees,
Beggin' like an orphan Just a crumb, sir, if you please,”
But who else can I turn to, in my hour of need,
To save me from the oblivion of mediocrity,
Now, who are you to criticize? I saw you with your soul
Whisperin’ to the devil out behind Smokey Joe’s.

©Phillip (Rags) Rosenberg