The Heroics of Luke and Han - John Williams & London Symphony Orchestra

He walks in, orders up a round How you been, my old friend? The band kicks off, the same ole dance The same ole worn out songs but he sings along He's gonna stay here 'til they make him leave 'Cause he's got all the friends a guy like him could ever need One will hang around and tell him what he wants to hear One will help by drownin' out the how'd you wind up heres One will hold him up, when love has let him down They do the best they can for a broken-hearted fool The Beer, the Band and the Barstool Corner booth, a blonde with lonely eyes A shade of blue, "Hey, how are you?" Just by chance, are you here alone? How about a dance? And she took his hand He hoped she'd stay, but always knew she'd leave But he's got all the friends a guy like him could ever need One will hang around and tell him what he wants to hear One will help by drownin' out the how'd you wind up heres One will hold him up, when love has let him down They do the best they can for a broken-hearted fool The Beer, the Band and the Barstool Now he last call, lights a cigarette and orders up one more Pays his tab, knows he'll be back, 'cause he's been here before One will hang around and tell him what he wants to hear One will help by drownin' out the how'd you wind up heres One will hold him up, when love has let him down They do the best they can for a broken-hearted fool They go hand-in-hand with losin' you The Beer, the Band and the Barstool And the Barstool

One, two I like grass stains And the mountains and the prairies and the badlands And the canyons and the caverns and the desert sands And the birds and the bees and the bushes and the trees The snow and the wind and the rain and the sleet All underneath my feet, underneath my feet I like the sidewalks And the streets and the lights from the pawn shops And the windows and the doors when they ain't locked With my woman inside dying to see me Hold me, please me, love me, leave me Oh, down on my knees I like windmills And the trains and the truckers from the oil fields And the bugs when they splatter on my windshield And the way the sun feels, oh, it feels so real Oh, and the glory and the grace, and the glory and grace I like pool halls And the rammers and the gammers around the eight ball Come morning maybe looking at a stone wall With the aches and the pains and the elbows and knees And the cigarette tress is what we need Ah, cigarette trees I like grass stains And the mountains and the prairies and the badlands And the canyons and the caverns and the desert sands And the birds and the bees and the bushes and the trees The snow and the wind and the rain and the sleet All underneath my feet