Title: Swing, Swing, Swing
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Tempo: 160 BPM
Tracks: 1
Instruments:
Bars: 174

Lyric

Some go fight, some think.
Most don’t, there’s too much noise to hear.
Six empty bottles in the sink.

They’re not listening now, I’m sure.
We see them staring on the couch.
Eight empty bottles in the sink.

If you’re thinkin’ ‘bout, thinkin’ ‘bout, getting’ out.
Come outside.
In this drinkin’ bout now, we’re thinkin’ ‘bout
Bottle number nine.

Unknown stories unfold.
We see the images collide.
But clinking bottles now, so empty.
Sound the fancies; we abide.

Small town stresses, compressing,
The thought that we’re all on the brink.
And we’ve got bottles more to drink.

If you’re thinkin’ ‘bout, thinkin’ ‘bout, getting’ out.
Come outside.
In this drinkin’ bout now, we’re thinkin’ bout
Bottle Number nine.

And when we’ve cleaned out all the cobwebs
From our comfy sense of truth about the world around us.
We will walk home, helping, haggard,
Determined, hungry, and blue
To think up loving things to do.

This is a fight, I think.
Some see it written in the stars

If you’re thinkin’ ‘bout, thinkin’ ‘bout, sneakin’ out.
Get outside.
In this drinkin’ bout now, we’re thinkin’ ‘bout
Bottle number nine.

If you’re thinkin’ ‘bout, thinkin’ bout, getting’ out.
come outside.
In this drinkin’ ‘bout, now we’re thinkin’ ‘bout.
Bottle number nine.