There's a big fat man on a mechanical bull in slow motion
Like Debra Winger
As he gets knocked off, and I think he's hurt
It's a bitch facing facts and figures
There's a band on stage that used to be huge
They're on but no one's listening
And they're asked to turn down and they politely oblige
Ain't no such thing as a free ride
And it ain't my night and it ain't my town
And I ain't being condescending
It's just the opening slot, and I hit my mark
And leave as the crowd is thinning
But the man's on the guest list, so I guess it'll be alright
Said the man's on the guest list, so I guess it'll be alright
Said the man's on the guest list, so I guess it'll be alright
The man's on the guest list
In a little while the paramedics come
And they haul off that urban bovine Knievel
And I see my friend and I give him all my money
And I tell myself it's a necessary evil
And it's all such a fleeting thing
So I guess I'd best try and enjoy it
All this beauty and just enough time
To figure out how to destroy it
I'm just the opening act
And it ain't my crowd and it ain't my night
But I'd be lying if I said I can't relate
Just the opening act, and the van is packed
And I'm hauling ass to another state
And I'm driving north
As the sun is rising over a Technicolor horizon
Reached out to touch you and you're not there
You're a thousand miles away from here
And I turn on the radio
And heard some preacher talking salvation
And the tank is half full
And I reached over and changed the station
I'm just the opening act