Intro: F Bb F Bb 

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The boys that I hang with went down to the Firebird: 
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They sang for two hours an' they played for their beers. 
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They wrestled their demons for good friends and neighbors: 
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Moved them to dance an', sometimes, to tears.  

They sang about highways, 'bout strippers an' killers; 

'Bout fingers in satin, an' lamplight on lace. 

An' songs about love, an' songs about heartbreak, 

An' some people say they were ghosts in the place. 
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 So we'd shout hallelujah an' sing Jambalaya: 
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 You shoot for the moon, you wind up 'mongst the stars. 
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 Some day we'll be able to get a good table, 
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 An' ride around town in them big shiny cars.  

It's no bed of roses when all a man knows is, 

Three chords an' a dust cloud an' a mind himself now. 

With these high-powered brokers with their lizard-skin loafers, 

And a dangerous habit they just can't put down. 

 So he'd shout hallelujah an' sing Jambalaya: 

 You shoot for the moon, you wind up 'mongst the stars. 

 Some day we'll be able to get a good table, 

 An' ride around town in them big shiny cars 
     Bb          F            Bb        F     Bb F Bb
 An' ride around town in them big shiny cars.