Cold Comfort

I come to the bar to be alone.
I think of this tavern as a second home.
Away from my kids and wife,
I imagine a better life.
I come to the bar to be alone.

My old friends sometimes ask me where I’ve gone
And wonder why I won’t join them for a little fun.
But I can’t stand the cocktail crowd.
My old haunts, they just haunt me now.
I come to the bar to be alone.

I need an hour of solace for my own.
When this old world tries to get me down,
I order a glass of beer.
I find cold comfort here.
I come to the bar to be alone.

Sometimes the other barflies try to strike up a conversation.
They can’t understand what keeps me coming back.
It’s not the women or the booze:
It’s the solitude.
I come to the bar to be alone.