It’s my belief that a country song is not good because it’s good. It’s good because it’s a good country song. There is a Platonic ideal for a country song, and like Plato, the definition alludes me. While Steve Goodman may be crowned as king of the “perfect country and western song,” I don’t think it’s right to bestow such an honored title in perpetuity. I also don’t think it’s right that See the Big Man Cry should even have to compete with a novelty song and He Stopped Loving Her Today. It’s just not fair to Charlie. Yet, I still needed something to push me to right this wrong.

On January 3, 2021, I was involved in a bicycle accident that tore my ACL and damaged my meniscus. I was presribed alternately Tramadex and Percocet for the pain of the recovery and reconstructive surgery. In the haze of pain killers, I used my time off from work to write the lyrics to a country song that I knew had to be written.

It seemed wrong—given that bars are both a place where alcohol is served and a means of confinement—that only songs like Still Doing Time even touched on this obvious pun. I had to fill that void. This is my attempt:

The lights come on, it's time to go and settle the tab.
For all my lusts I've wound up here and given all I had.
With shaking limbs I get up and make my way to the chair.
I've no strength left to face the truth: Death is in the air.

[Chorus]
I'm stuck inside these bars,
Why do I act so proud?
I tell myself these lies
and wear pride as a shroud.
I'm stuck inside these bars
I'll wish the world goodbye
I'm stuck inside these bars, and
I know that's where I'll die

I tell myself that I can change and make it come out right,
But change won't come and I know I've taken my own life.
I try each day to show the world the image of a man,
and every night, behind these bars, I'm back where I began.

Five years ago we tied the knot. Who knew on just a thread?
Now she is gone and my home is this concrete bed. 
I stole her years with drunken lies and ended it the night
I told her she'd be better dead, and she said: "You're right."

[Chorus]

The time has come. The shaking's gone. Fire's in my throat.
I feel the cold on my hands and pray my soul to float
Far away from where I sit, sentenced to my death.
My resting place behind this bar with liquor on my breath.

I'm stuck inside these bars,
Why do I act so proud?
I tell myself these lies
and wear pride as a shroud.
I'm stuck inside these bars
I'll wish the world goodbye
I'm stuck inside these bars, and
I know that here I'll die