Lyrics James McMurtry – Talkin’ At The Texaco
Text:
Well if you’re lookin’ for a good time
You’re a little bit late
We rolled up the sidewalks
At a quarter to eight
We can’t sell you no beer
It’s a small town, so
May I ask what you’re doin’ here
Hey what you up to
I already know
I heard the boys
Talkin’ at the Texaco
It’s a small town
I know how you feel
It’s a small town, son
And the news travels
Quicker than wheels
Who you lookin’ for
What was his name
You can prob’ly find him
At the football game
It’s a small town
You know what I mean
It’s a small town, son
And we all support the team
The preacher drove by in his Cadillac
I waved at him but he didn’t wave back
It’s a small town
Everybody knows your face
It’s a small town, son
I woke up feeling foggy
And I called old Mrs. White
I figured she could tell me
What I did last night
It’s a small town
She’s bound to know
It’s a small town, son
I believe that I better go