I rolled in off the highway with the windows halfway down,
Turned in past the boat ramp on the quiet edge of town.
Same screen door, same handle, same hard pull to swing it wide,
And my boots hit that old wood floor the second I stepped inside.
Every road I ever took came back around to here,
Through every good and every god-awful year.
I've walked in here a thousand times and never twice the same...
It's the last bar that still knows my name.
Scratched my name beneath the rail with a borrowed pocketknife,
Thought this little harbor town would be my whole damn life.
Danny caught my fake ID, just chuckled, shook his head,
Poured my first one legal — "known your daddy years," he said.
Came back in a borrowed suit the day we lowered him into the ground,
Nobody touched his corner stool — the only empty seat in town.
Danny poured the whole bar a round and wouldn't let me pay,
Set one down where Dad would sit... then turned and walked away.
There's a kid behind the bar that Danny's bringing up to stay,
Carving his initials under the rail, same as we did back in the day.
Someday I'm just a photograph somebody hung up on the wall...
And that's alright — these old four walls have always held us all.
Every road I ever took came back around to here,
Through every good and every god-awful year.
I've walked in here a thousand times and never twice the same...
It's the last bar that still knows my name.
Danny slid one across the bar...
"Been a while..."
Took my stool by the window, like I'd never missed a thing.
Raised my glass toward Dad's old stool, and smiled...
"Here's to the King."